


here's my hand (if you'll take it)

by vineasphodel



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Cheating, F/M, Hand Jobs, M/M, Pining, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 05:22:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4007452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vineasphodel/pseuds/vineasphodel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“I--” he gasps, but Zayn shushes him with his thumb pressed to Liam’s bottom lip.</i> I love you, <i>he thinks, chest aching like it might burst from how much he feels.</i> I love you so much, I’ve always loved you. <i>But Zayn watches him with soft, half lidded eyes and he traces Liam’s mouth until he presses their mouths together with messy precision. </i></p><p>
  <i>It starts a wildfire in Liam’s heart and he doesn’t want it to stop, but he does.</i>
</p><p>or the fic where it’s seven days until zayn’s wedding. four times liam holds his tongue and one time he doesn’t.</p>
            </blockquote>





	here's my hand (if you'll take it)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hovering](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hovering/gifts).



> between the last couple of months, not going to lie, this was a bit difficult. but i think the outcome was completely worth it. first off, of course, a big thanks to my lovely beta. you know who you are, you’re always the best and i love you. hovering, you had a lot of great prompts. but this one called out to me the most ;) this is for you. i hope it hurts you as much as it hurts me. 
> 
> disclaimer: this work is purely fiction, as i do not own one direction or little mix. even tho ziam is hella real.

“I struggle with wanting you all the time,

so please don’t mistake my silence for indifference.

It’s just I have to hold myself back because I feel too much.

Too often. Too wildly out of my control.”

\---- Tina Tran, _My words don’t say much at all._

 

*** * ***

 

6 days left.

 

The first time it happens, it’s on the last Monday in June after they’ve met with the tailor.

 

Ever since the announcement in late April that Zayn and Perrie was finally getting hitched after years of holding the wedding off, it's been a non-stop rollercoaster of interview after interview. It's perhaps the biggest gossip that ever hit the papers, every news article, every single breaking news headline that reads 'ZAYN MALIK AND PERRIE EDWARDS -- TYING THE KNOT THIS JULY.'

 

And everyone is so fucking excited about it. The buzz never stops, no one ever doesn't ask about simple wedding plans like the theme and whether One Direction will be performing there or not, no one never doesn't ask about what it's going to be like getting married in France and in Disney no less, the wedding Perrie's always wanted. Paps want to know what the buzz is every time even one of the boys, or girls of Little Mix, is seen out in the streets. It's question after question, to every single one of them, not just Perrie and Zayn. They all have to deal with it.

 

Liam finds it extremely annoying. Not just the constant questioning either, not just that he can't step a foot outside without a pap coming up to him and asking what's the latest on his best friend's wedding, while taking snap shots of him leaving a club no less. But it's the entire wedding as a whole, as terrible as it sounds. It's the fact that Liam knows Zayn, knows his boy, knows what he's thinking most of the time, knows how he feels in certain situations. And the wedding, marrying Perrie, it doesn't feel real, doesn't feel organic or genuine when Zayn can't even talk about it for more than five minutes without wanting to change the subject. And it's not that he doesn't want to be happy for Zayn either, because he does. Zayn's happiness means the world to him, and he would sacrifice so much just to ensure Zayn's, well, happy.

 

But it's that nagging tug at the back of his stomach every time the wedding is mentioned, and was mentioned in the past. It's the taste of bile on the tip of his tongue when Zayn is congratulated and he nods, rubbing at his chin with his hand and thanking them for their best wishes. It just doesn’t sit right with him, doesn’t feel genuine because it's so hard to _believe._ It’s the way that Liam has to subtly shake his head when Zayn is asked if he’s sure that he wants to do this. It’s the way that Liam's hands shake and he has to ball his hands into fists whenever it’s brought up, the way he finds himself biting back his tongue because he doesn’t want to scream _This wedding isn’t happening, it won’t ever happen, why doesn’t anyone get that?_ Because Liam never thought the wedding was actually going to happen, just thought that Zayn got carried away with himself, rushed into the engagement because he wanted something stable in his life, something consistent with all the craziness that came with the band. And Liam got that, he did. He just never thought Zayn would think to settle with Perrie when he never really saw her, barely kissed her and always purposely missed her mouth because Zayn never really said that he loved her in the first place. And the thing was, Liam was completely sure that this would all just fade away. Zayn would come to realize that this is something that he didn’t really want and the engagement would be off and all would just go back to normal. It was supposed to go back to normal.

 

It didn’t work out like that because Liam's never that lucky. Although Perrie took the initiative in setting up most of the wedding plans (colour scheme, invitations, flowers, cake flavours, venue, and music. Harry cracked a joke once that she was going to end up writing Zayn’s wedding vows at that rate), and Zayn seemed mildly disinterested in it all, (when he had supposed to have gone over to Perrie’s to discuss what was going to be done about their first dance, he instead had gotten high with Louis in the mystery machine, and shone up to Perrie’s a whole two hours late) the wedding was still, most definitely happening.

 

And Liam will not lie, it’s been a surreal kind of few months. Denial sort of floated at the top of his chest like it was just a dream that he’ll eventually wake up to. He watched painfully, hoping that as the wedding came near, Zayn would realize what he was doing. But the last week, it had faded like a slow burn into reality, into the fact that the days had been counted down and now there’s only a week left. A week left until Zayn makes the biggest mistake of his life.

 

Liam thinks, as he slips on the black suit jacket, that perhaps this might be the death of him. He stares into the mirror for longer than he probably means to, mentally prepares himself and takes a deep breath. And he comes to terms with the fact that, no, this isn’t just about his best friend marrying someone he doesn’t love. But that it’s also about the yearning, powerful, bloody unconditional feelings Liam has been harbouring for Zayn. Yep, Liam sighs. That is most definitely it.

 

“Payno!” It’s Niall’s voice that seeks him out first before his fist raps down into the door of the dressing room. “You done yet? We’re waiting on you!”

 

“Yeah, I'm coming out now.” he calls back, buttoning the few at his middle. Rolling his shoulders into the jacket, he opens the door and steps out of the changing room.

 

The warehouse had been closed off to the public for the boys, their last fitting before Caroline orders the suits for them. In the back room, it consisted of a circular platform, mirrors on every side and four separate changing rooms, a long white sofa in the middle. And the rest of the boys are there when Liam meets them, Harry sprawled out on the sofa, Niall checking the suit out in front of one of the mirrors. Zayn sits on one of the arms on the couch and snickers as Louis’ being fitted, who keeps frowning and insisting that he needs a longer suit because he’s in fact 5’9 while Caroline shakes her head at him.

 

Zayn picks his head up as Liam steps out, smiling while Liam pulls at the bottom of his suit jacket. “I think it’s alright." Liam says, glancing in one of the mirrors. "Still fits.”

 

Nodding, Zayn's fingers tap at the cigarette case in his hands. “That makes all but one,” he says, smirking. “Lou swears his trousers were longer the last time he tried them on.”

 

“Because they were! I’m telling you--”

 

“Louis, _please_ stand still so I can measure you, babe.”

 

The four of them fall into a series of soft laughter, Louis throwing dirty looks while attempting to lift his arm enough to give them the finger. It doesn’t work, Caroline smacking his arm back down with an exasperated expression.

 

Liam crosses over to the couch and leans against the back of it, his elbow touching Zayn’s. Shifting, Zayn faces him and snakes an arm over Liam’s shoulder, pulling him in closer that Liam’s ear brushes his shoulder. “Hey,” he starts, soft enough that the conversation can be left between the pair of them. A smile pulls at the edges of Liam’s mouth, but he licks his bottom lip to stop himself. “You’re still coming with me to get the rings, yeah?” And that is enough to make Liam’s lips quiver, disappointment rapping at his chest. Right, the rings. He almost forgot. And he almost forgot when Zayn asked him to be the one to hold onto them, which meant he himself was a walking reminder that Zayn’s getting married. He’ll have to protect the rings meant for Zayn and a smaller, prettier, diamond encrusted one just for Perrie.

 

And how could Liam say no? It was never in Liam's nature to let Zayn down, never in his nature to tell his boy no. “Yeah, of course.” And it’s automatic, the way he replies to him no matter how much it actually pains him. Zayn gives him another small smile that sets Liam’s insides on fire, makes him feel good all the way to his toes even if it’s such a bittersweet feeling.

 

*** * ***

 

As they get changed to leave, putting the comfortable clothes they came with on, Harry insists that he comes with them. Something within Liam’s chest screams because it was supposed to be a _Liam and Zayn thing_ but Zayn mutters on their way out of the warehouse that he doesn’t mind. So, naturally of course, Liam has to endure the Liam and Zayn thing that’s now a _Liam and Zayn and Harry thing._ He clenches his fists at his side, settles into the driver’s seat of Audi and listens to Harry go on about Amsterdam.

 

“Nothing like a stag do in Amsterdam.”

 

“It’s gonna be sick.” he could hear the excitement in Zayn’s voice, can sense the wide grin across his mouth even if he can’t see him.

 

No one says anything, but Liam knows that it’s the last real vacation they’ll have together. He feels it in the silence, the way Zayn casts lingering glances at him with a sad sort of look in his eyes. Sure, they’ll go on tour together and things will be great, but Zayn would be married and Perrie would want to have a family despite their respective careers. And then all of Zayn’s down time would be split between his family and Perrie, and Liam will never get to take another mini vacation with him again like they did early that previous year.  

 

“Yeah, who knows what’s going to happen?” he says, adds onto the jibes that are made all the while he tries to keep his grip on the steering wheel steady.

 

They arrive to the jewelry shop in London and upon entering, an older man that stands behind the counter heads into the back. Harry’s lanky body hangs over the glass counter, points out the rings he likes, all of which has crosses engraved into them. There’s a sparkly one that he taps on the glass just above it, turns to Liam with the corners of his mouth turning up into a crooked grin.

 

“You know who would’ve really liked this--” But the words fall flat in his mouth with remembrance and then the three of them fall silent.

 

He leans over the glass and takes a peek at the ring, the diamond in the center in the shape of a bow. “Yeah, Haz.” he says dryly. “Sophia would’ve really liked it.” He gets it. He gets that the boys would forget that after years of being with Sophia, their time would eventually run out. Being attached to his name was good, but it wasn’t enough to stay with him when the flame had been burning out for a while. And perhaps it had more to do with the fact that Zayn and Perrie’s date was set, the wedding becoming more and more of a reality that snapped his thoughts in place. Sophia became less and less of a priority to him, and the realization of Liam’s not-so-heterosexual-feelings-for-Zayn surfaced. But Liam never mentioned it, never even uttered a word about it to the other boys because talking about Sophia meant the possibility of talking about his feelings for Zayn. And that couldn't've been a thing, he couldn’t ruin the wedding, couldn’t ruin Zayn’s potential happiness and couldn’t let everything go to waste. And yet, only in a less than sober night, he mushed his face into Zayn’s chest and muttered the words into his tee shirt. _I think Sophia and I are gonna break up soon._ And they did. So, Liam plays along because it’s better than talking about how he feels.

 

But he doesn’t have to worry about Harry’s apologetic eyes or the concerned pulse of Zayn’s jaw. The shopkeeper steps out from the back with one red ring box the size of his hand. It’s opened and there Liam sees it, the rings that Zayn and Perrie will be wearing for a very, very long time. He feels the hard press of Zayn’s palm on his shoulder when his throat closes, itchy like he’d have to reach inside his esophagus and rip at it with his fingernails. But he can’t look away, eyes watering from the shine that reflects off the surface from the lights overhead.

 

“What do you think?” Zayn’s voice is by his ear and Liam can feel the small puffs of Zayn’s breath there. It sets shivers down his back, but he won’t move, won’t curl in on himself and move away. And for a moment, every thought wipes clean from his mind. Time almost freezes, like he’s suspended there with just him and Zayn. He forgets where they are, who they’re with. And then a thousand and one thoughts come rushing back, time ticking back into place and there’s so many words on Liam’s tongue that threatens to spill as he stares at the fucking rings. _You're not ready_ , he thinks, hands clutched at his sides. The bluntness of his short fingernails dig into the fleshy palm of his hand. _I'm not ready. You can’t do this, you can’t do this to me._ But it’s selfish and wrong and--

 

“They’re beautiful.” he forces out instead, tentatively averting his gaze to meet Zayn’s eyes. And there, Liam sees the softness in them, the gratitude that Liam is there with him, his best friend. The hand on Liam’s shoulder gives him a friendly squeeze, something that Liam can sense a _thank you_ in the press of Zayn’s fingertips.

 

He tries out a smile, but it feels wrong on his mouth. And if Zayn notices, he doesn’t say anything.

 

5 days left.

 

"Are you moping because you and Sophia broke up?" Niall asks him about forty five minutes into the flight. They boarded their flight to Amsterdam early that morning, the television set on their private jet playing reruns of F.R.I.E.N.D.S.

 

Liam tears his eyes away from the window and blinks at him, his lips parted and brows furrowed in disbelief. He thinks of what a fucking random arse question that is to ask when Liam has hardly mentioned Sophia at all in the last month. But his throat closes and his tongue feels heavy in his mouth because no, he wasn't fucking moping because of Sophia. And really, could Niall be anymore blatant? “What?”

 

Niall chews on the almonds he’d popped into his mouth, the plastic of the bag wrinkling in his hand as he adjusts himself to sit on his ankles. His shoes are off and the tiny plane reeks of sweat. “Dunno. You just seem a little off, like something’s bothering you.” There’s a pause that stretches between them where Liam closes his eyes and leans his head back against the seat and the plastic of Niall’s bag of almonds crunch again. “Y’know, you could always talk to us. Louis and El broke up way back, too. So, you’re not alone.”

 

“I know,” Liam sighs, but that’s not it. And the hesitance in Niall’s tone suggests he knows that’s not it either. He opens his eyes to meet Niall’s gaze and smiles sheepishly. “I just -- I don’t want to think about any of that, yeah? Want to enjoy my time with my boys.”

 

And Niall smiles back at that, nods and doesn’t speak for the rest of the way there.

 

*** * ***

 

They arrive in Amsterdam without any problems. Liam gets the buzz of it all just from stepping off the plane, Niall by his side as they meet the rest of the boys on the second jet. And they gather their stuff to haul into a couple of cars, Liam wedged between Harry and Louis.

 

And it’s just how they remember it, too; the city relatively quiet with the passing of a few cars every now and again until it hits rush hour. With the windows rolled down, the heavy scent of oil every time they pass a snack bar, and warm baked bread when they pass a bakery (Harry asks to stop. They all say no). They get the whiff of weed when they pass a coffee shop, mixed with the smell of fresh grinds. It’s fucking great, especially the way Zayn texts Liam with all exclamation points and nothing else. And Liam laughs, shaking his head when he holds his phone close to him.

 

The hotel they’ve booked for the next couple of days is different from the last two times they’ve been here. Outside, there’s a water fountain that’s mostly for show and not for throwing wish pennies in (They still do and is only scolded once when Louis looks mildly shocked. He put a hand over his chest and sincerely replied, “Zayn is wishing himself good luck on his wedding. Please be considerate.” And Niall doesn’t stop laughing, Zayn nearly collapses in Liam’s arms to conceal the look on his face, and Liam tries to keep his lips a perfect line when Harry steps in behind Louis and nods approvingly). And the lobby’s just as good looking, classy and they’re helped with their luggage by a bellhop that Harry doesn’t hesitate to throw bedroom eyes at (The rest of the boys smirk, Zayn elbowing Liam softly in the middle while they look on. It’s amusing to say the least). They’re upgraded to the penthouse suite almost immediately. Each of the three bedrooms are decked out with it’s black laced and red trimmed bedding, the rooms smelling like fresh linen. And with each bedroom comes with it’s own bathroom, bleachy white toilet, sink and tub, the walls and towels the same deep red.

 

The rest of the morning is spent deciding who rooms with who. Niall takes the liberty of declaring his own bedroom and when Zayn falls asleep in the room Harry claims, Liam’s left with Louis. They spend the next couple of hours taking showers to rid themselves of the sticky atmosphere of planes, and ordering up room service for lunch, picking at grilled sandwiches, and sipping at teas and coffees.

 

Zayn steps out into the living room nearly four hours later, rubbing at his eye with the palm of his hand and his socked feet dragging along the carpet of the floor. Each of the boys look up to him as he enters, Liam sitting up a little straighter and his chest tightening at just how tired (and cute) Zayn looks.

 

"Alright?" Niall's the first to ask and for a moment or two, Zayn doesn't say anything. Just blinks and nods, moving toward the sofa and takes a seat right next to Liam, their knees touching.

 

"What time is it?"

 

"It's a little past four." Liam says, the corner of his mouth twitching when Zayn looks at him incredulously. "You passed out before you barely got your suitcase open, never mind unpacked."

 

Zayn scrubs a hand over the top of his head, his bottom lip tucked into his mouth. "I don't even remember falling asleep, to be honest. I woke up and thought it was the next morning, like." A soft smile finds it’s way onto Liam’s mouth and he slings an arm over Zayns shoulder, pulling him into his chest. Liam doesn't notice the rest of the boys look their way, a smile of their own on each one of their mouths. Louis clears his throat loudly and moves from the couch into the kitchen, drumming his fingers on the countertop.

 

"Hungry?" He directs toward Zayn, and Harry swivels in the seat on the island chair.

 

Snapping his fingers, he says, "Let's go out." There's a pause that stretches on among the room, Zayn looking up from his spot on the couch. "If you're feeling up to it."

 

Rubbing his chin, Zayn licks his lips in contemplation. Liam feels the tension in Zayn's shoulders, they way they always do in situations like this. But Zayn's frame eases when he looks up to the four of them and nods. "Yeah, alright. Might as well, wouldn't be a stag do without it, yeah?" From the corner of the room, Niall gets up from the armchair and claps a hand over Zayn's knee.

 

"Then let's fucking get in."

 

They pack into a car about an hour later to hit the town. The first place they hit is a nice looking restaurant by the water. As requested, the eight of them (Alberto and Preston, of course) get a table outside where they get to watch the sunset, the sky painted in pinks and oranges.

 

"A toast," Harry begins, slow and syrupy. He stands from his seat clumsily and holds his glass of wine up. "To Zayn. We're all very proud and excited for you. Best wishes to you, Perrie, and the future."

 

"All the love, H!" Louis teases in a shout that makes the others fall into hoots of laughter. They all lift their glasses and clink them together in Zayn's direction. Harry shakes his head, clings his glass and waves his hand away when he takes his seat again.

 

"I just want to say," Zayn starts when his laughter dies down. From across the table, he meets Liam's eyes just as he puts his beer down. "That there's no one else I'd rather be here with, then you four boys."

 

"Oh, stop it before you start making me cry." Niall quips loudly and claps Liam on the shoulder playfully. Exhaling a short laugh of his own in a breath, Liam averts his gaze to the table. He doesn't look up even though he feels Zayn's eyes on him, but he does clear his throat and puts on a smile.

 

"Now enough of all the sap. We hitting the town after this or what?"

 

They end up going to a club named Aspect, good for their vibrant atmosphere, pop dancing beats and fuchsia lighting. And the night starts with them tucked in a booth in the second floor of the club, over looking the packed dance floor below, two caged dancers swaying on each end of the floor. Liam buys the first round of shots, tries not to meet Zayn's eyes and think about the wedding again. He tries not to think about loving Zayn, or waiting too long, so he takes the shot glass and accepts Louis' challenge on who could drink it the fastest. Another round of shots later and they split up; Zayn disappears to have a smoke, Louis leaves the booth to go to the bar, Harry claims he needs to use the bathroom but a half hour passes and they don't expect him to return.

 

Niall sits with Liam for a while longer than Liam expects, but when he sees Niall eyeing a girl dancing down blow, Liam sighs and sets his beer down. "You can go." He says over the music. For a moment, Niall looks stunned, red faced from the booze, but he grins and pats a rough hand to Liam's chest before he leaves. And then it's just Liam and to feel a little less lame (but still very much lame), he gets up from the booth and lingers about the balcony railing.

 

The beat of the club settles in Liam's chest, the bass pumping in his ears while the alcohol makes his brain a little fuzzy. He watches from the balcony, one hand on the railing as he watches three of boys weave in and out of the crowd; Niall chatting some red head in one corner, Louis making a small crowd of people laugh in a booth, their laughter ringing only a tad bit over the music. And then Harry, holding a martini above his head as he dances between a girl with blue hair and a man at least five years older than him, grinding into each other in unison.

 

He doesn't have to look for Zayn when Liam feels his presence before he actually sees him. Zayn slides in next to him, a whiskey sour in one hand while the other slips on to Liam's lower back. It's warm, comfortable and familiar, Liam leaning back onto it with his eyes fluttering

 

"Hey," he says, leaning in close to Liam's ear while Zayn's whole body almost presses into him. The heat of his palm soaks into Liam shirt and warms his insides more than the alcohol does. And the smirk that forms on his mouth his flirty, the indication that he's drunk, or at least a little tipsy.

 

Liam swallows hard, takes another swing at his beer. "Alright?" And Zayn nods, looks down below the balcony, but still doesn't move his hand, let's it sit in the dip just above Liam's arse. He says something low under his breath that Liam can't make out, his brows coming together. Zayn grins a little wider, but licks his lips as if to conceal it, his hand moving from Liam's back to his neck, pulling him in close to his mouth. Alarms in Liam's entire body goes off, his lips parting and he feels the way his body shifts in a way that the two of them become chest to chest, his hand raising to rest lazily on Zayn's waist.

 

"I was looking for you, actually." Zayn's lip brush against Liam's ear, slurring. He breaks away from Liam just enough to pick the cherry out of his glass, twirling the stem between delicate fingers. And through his lashes, his eyes never leave Liam's, not when his lips part and lowers the cherry into his mouth, breaking the stem with sharp teeth and red lips. And fucking hell, it's obscene. Everything about it is obscene and Liam's dick in his jeans twitch, his grip on the neck of his beer bottle tightening. The club gets hot, more than it already was and Liam doesn't know what to do about that or the way Zayn is looking at him with hooded eyes like he wants to fuck or be fucked, there’s no telling which. "Do you wanna smoke with me?"

 

He nods, head fuzzy and thoughts swimming, but he still let's Zayn wrap his fingers around Liam's wrist and lead him away from the balcony. And the background noise faders into a soft beat like a pulse, Zayn pulling Liam away with nothing but their fingers laced together, the weight of love and beer sitting in his gut while he weaves through crowds.

 

Outside, the air is cooler and goosebumps raise on Liam's arms the moment they step out, the damp spots on his tee shirt cooling from where he was sweating. He takes one last sip of his beer as Zayn reaches into his jean pocket to retrieve a beat up cigarette pack and a lighter. Zayn sticks one in between his lips and holds one out for Liam, but when Liam's movements are too slow, Zayn makes a low laugh in his throat and holds the cigarette for Liam to take in between his lips. So, he does; Liam leans forward and parts his lips enough for Zayn to slip the end of the cigarette a half an inch against his mouth. And he lights Liam up first, watches with eager eyes as the tip goes orange and the smoke drift up into the night. It's after the first pull does Zayn finally light his own cigarette and stick the box and lighter into the back pocket of his jeans.

 

The bass of the music could be heard, a thud that raps against the walls of the building and Liam thinks if it's possible it could blow the club apart just by sound waves. But Zayn's hand is on him again before Liam realizes, Zayn licking his lips and shuffling close. "I wanna thank you, Liam," he slurs again, both his palms resting low on Liam's hips, but he doesn't remember Zayn putting his whiskey sour down. "You're my best friend, y'know that? I love you so much, I'm so glad you're here."

 

"I know." He says and feels Zayn's breath on him like they're breathing the same air, in each other's space. "You said -- you said that at dinner." His cigarette hand shakes, the ashes flicking at their feet, but Zayn's so close to him and he's not moving.

 

Zayn's lips part like he wants to say something, mouth open and jaw slacked. But then his brow furrows and his mouth closes, jaw tensing. He nods, putting his hand on Liam's bicep and squeezes hard. "But you," he breathes and Liam's chest hitches. "I always need you, Liam."

 

And it's something so small, but it means something bigger, so much more significant to Liam that he's sure means near nothing to Zayn. The taste of nicotine sits on his tongue and when Zayn pulls away from him to take a drag of his own, Liam thinks he's never been in love with a person so much as he is with him.

 

4 days left.

 

The second time it happens, Liam entirely blames it on Louis.

 

They're sat in the living room that following evening, coming back to the hotel room from dinner, as requested by Zayn. After the night before, Zayn has demanded that clubs were out of the question. And since the rest of the boys agreed that because it's Zayn's stag do, anything he says, goes. That, and they all know that once Zayn changes into comfortable clothing, there is no way in hell to change his mind.

 

That had been okay though considering Louis had something else in mind. When the car came around to pick them up from the restaurant? Louis took a detour. They split into separate cabs, Louis going god knows where, but considering the fact that Niall couldn't keep a straight face every time Liam asked, it wasn't something good. Zayn shrugged it off and switched on a movie at full volume, curling into the sofa and only looked up at Liam every so often like he might be considered, too.

 

But Louis back in roughly an hour later, slamming the door behind him and holds a black plastic bag in his hands, “Now,” He smirks and rests the bag on the kitchen counter. Liam raises his brow while _The Avengers_ play in the background, Louis reaching into the bag and slams a bottle of Grey Goose onto the marble. A wicked like grin pulls at the corners of his mouth when he holds up a small baggy, a fat nub inside that they all recognize immediately. Liam watches beside him as Zayn sits up straighter in his seat, hands gripping at the arms in excitement, and there’s a grin on his mouth that only happens every so often. He’s absolutely fucking ecstatic. “Time to really fucking celebrate.”

 

No one, of course, protests and the next two hours happens in a blur. Niall had been the first one to reach for the booze, heavily generous while pouring the liquid into the five individual shot glasses Louis also purchased on his endeavour. And all the while, Harry sings low and quiet, LMFAO’s song ‘Shots,’ his fist bumping into the air. And after a few rounds, they all joined in some way or another. Another courtesy of Louis happens a couple of hours after they’re pissed; while all sat around the living room of the suite, Louis lazily looks through the contacts on his phone, makes a few calls and the rest is drowned in shots of vodka Liam can't remember taking.

 

He doesn't remember Zayn moving to the window to smoke with Louis, doesn't remember the knock on their door and a group of pretty girls entering. He doesn't remember Niall and Harry flirting with them, kissing their mouths and offering them a couple of shots of their own. And he especially doesn't remember being given a fucking solo cup filled to the top with half part booze and half part orange juice. When the fuck did they even get solo cups? He drinks anyway.

 

He drinks while he watches Louis pack a the bowl to a make shift water bong (nothing but a large, plastic Evian with an inch or two of water at the bottom and punctured aluminum foil spread over the top) with careful fingers, watches the way Zayn eyes the weed with excitement, watches the way Zayn's leg shakes while he waits. And Louis lets Zayn take the first hit, lights the bowl for him and Liam watches the neck cloud up with smoke and makes the glass pretty. He breathes in, nice and slow, holds the smoke between hollow cheeks in between hits with his eyes closed, doesn't breathe the rest of the smoke out until Louis passes him the bong again.

 

Liam watches Zayn get higher and higher; his mouth starts to slack a bit, body relaxing and leaning against the window. His delayed reactions when reaching for the bong like he just can't get a good grasp on it or can't see what's in front of him. And he'll crack a smile and laugh with Louis, the two of them falling into fits between taking their respective hits, but Liam catches the way each time, Zayn hesitates and each time the smile on his mouth wavers.

 

“Oh my god.” Zayn presses his fingertips to his forehead, his eyes closed, but Liam sees the way his bottom lip quivers the way it does when he’s scared. He tips his head back against the wall, eyes still closed and his chest rises, falling rapidly with every sharp intake of breath. At his side, his free hand shakes.

 

No one notices. Louis takes another hit off the bong, pouts his lips in attempts to make smoke rings. Niall’s got two girls off on the couch, sitting in between them with his arms around their shoulders as he chats them up. Harry removes himself from whatever the fuck goes on from the couch and heads to the kitchen, pouring himself another shot and spilling some of the vodka onto the counter. Sat in the armchair across the couch, with a half empty solo cup in his hand and skewed vision, Liam notices. And when Zayn lets his head fall into his hands and stays there for more than a couple of minutes, Liam’s the first to move.

 

“Zayn,” he calls, slurring as he stumbles a little on the way to the window. Louis takes the lip of the bong from his mouth and raises his brows in question at Liam before returning his attention toward Zayn.

 

“Whoa, Z. Are you okay?” It must be that, that makes Harry and Niall notice, too. Because after a couple of seconds or so, they crowd Liam’s space and they’re all leaning heavily into one another. But they’re there none the less, four pairs of red eyes staring Zayn down like they’re all waiting for him to move or say something.

 

“What happened?” Niall’s accent thickens the way it only happens when he’s pissed. He leans a little too far into Liam, their shoulders pressing hard against one another. “What’s wrong with Zayn?”

 

Liam doesn’t answer. He doesn’t answer because Zayn doesn’t move. Zayn doesn’t move, except he slides down the wall and onto the floor. His hands still cover his eyes and his lips move, talking under his breath. None of them can make out the words or hear them above the beat of the music that still plays from the stereo. The girls are silent in the background.

 

Panic bubbles in Liam’s chest. It goes off like a switch, that something’s wrong because he’s seen Zayn get high before, seen him after he’s smoked with Louis and he’s never seen him like his before. And judging by the concerned look on Louis’ face, he’s guessing this never happened with Louis either. And oh, god. What does this even mean? What if something is seriously wrong with Zayn? What if they need to go to the hospital or what if he could die if he doesn’t get help? Liam’s veins ice over, staring through a hazy vision and wide eyes.

 

He pushes his way past the other boys to get to Zayn, crouching down to the other man’s level. Beside him, Louis does the same, but instead of reaching form Zayn’s hands and pulling them away from his face, Louis rests his elbows on his knees. And when Zayn lets Liam tug his hands away, resting them in his lap, Zayn’s face is blotchy, tears at the corners of his eyes. And his fucking eyes -- puffy at the bottom and so damn red, Liam’s not sure if it’s from the weed or if it’s from crying. Taking a tentative look at him, Zayn picks his gaze up sheepishly, meeting Liam’s eyes and pushing his bottom lip in between his teeth.

 

The rest of the boys still look on from behind them, all open mouthed and wide eyed.

 

“I think,” Louis starts, his tone hinting at something that sounds like awe and concern. They each turn toward him, expectant. But Louis grins and brings a hand up to his mouth when he snorts out a laugh. “I think he hit the bong too hard.”

 

A brief pause elapses, all still glancing at Zayn while he tentatively stares back. And they all but Liam and Zayn break out into laughter, too loud in Liam's ear. Zayn's cheeks flush and he nets his fingers together the way he does when he wants to disappear.

 

"Leave him alone." Liam defends, coming to Zayn's aid by wrapping an arm around his waist, his other hand pressing gently to his chest. The other boys, however, don't seem to hear him from just how hard they're laughing.

 

Zayn looks away and Liam frowns, supporting him as Liam helps him stand. The weight Zayn pushes onto Liam must be almost every bit of him; he leans heavily into the space between Liam's shoulder and chest, snaking an arm of his own around Liam's body, and pressing his fingertips hard enough to ground him. Liam's mind whirls with possibilities, with if only's and his knees sway with the thought that all Zayn would ever need is Liam to remind him where he is, what is real. They keep each other from drifting away.

 

The expression Zayn gives him too, is soft; his eyes are so fucking big just looking at him and with each blink, his eyelashes flutter almost seemingly innocent. Dusted over the tops of his cheeks, a blush burns there, tinting them pink and suddenly Zayn looks a lot younger than Liam has ever seen him.

 

"Your room?" He asks seriously, his heart beat still hammering in his chest enough to feel in his throat. And when Zayn nods and his fingers on Liam's neck squeeze minimally, the panic wedged in Liam lungs pause. So, he too, nods his head at his boy, presses his own fingers at Zayn's waist.

 

"Oi!" Niall shouts over the fits of laughter still spouting from Louis and Harry's mouths every second or so. "You leaving?"

 

"Zaynie's not feeling too good." Liam says before glancing back at Zayn. His own gaze his downcast, lips pressed and brows together; he doesn't meet anyone's eyes. But Liam sees the way his body curls in on itself, something he does when he's feeling ashamed.

 

"You coming back, Payno?"

 

But between the pliant Zayn in his arms, the gentle stare that he gives him, Liam only has to let his gaze linger on Zayn for a beat or two. Until Zayn, with his fingers still pressing into Liam’s neck, lifts his eyes. And the words that had already been on Liam’s tongue the second it left Niall’s mouth, finds it’s way to Liam’s throat and doesn’t dissolve in the inside of his mouth. “Nah, I think I’m good.” It rolls off the tip of his tongue like it was meant to and the look that Zayn gives him, all gentle eyes and pink lips and astonishment written beneath the lines etched on his face, is enough for Liam to let his lips stretch into a smile despite the other boys looking on.

 

Harry is the first to clear his throat, grabbing another shot with messy hands and sticky fingers, offering the girls in the living room if they’d like anything. The question makes giggles erupt from their mouths, but it fades into background noise when Zayn leans forward and connects his mouth to Liam’s neck. Heat coils in the pit of Liam’s belly, his hand momentarily slipping from Zayn’s waist and down the dip of his back just above his arse. It’s accidental, makes the heat in Liam’s cheeks unbearable when he looks up to find Niall and Louis watching. Niall breaks out into another fit of laughter, shaking his head and waving them off a couple of seconds later to join Harry. But it’s Louis that makes Liam’s nerves unsettle, skin prickling at the surface with the way his eyes narrow and the lines of his mouth are turned down in, what Liam has come to recognize after five years of knowing him, as concern. Their eyes meet, Liam in panic and Louis in mild interest before the older man averts his gaze and picks up the bong again. He takes a hit before he, too, turns himself away and shouts his way back into the role of the life of the party. Liam pretends he doesn’t feel the unease in the pit of his stomach, pretends he doesn’t taste something bitter on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he pulls Zayn closer into him, gets a good grip on his waist and wanders towards the bedroom.

 

They stumble into Zayn and Harry’s room, Liam holding him steady by the waist while Zayn mumbles words under his breath that Liam isn't sure is English, but he nods every time Zayn glances up at him with expectant eyes. He sets Zayn gently on one of the beds with a grunt, Zayn sliding onto the sheets while licking his lips and looking around the room like it’s the first time he’s seeing it. Liam doesn’t comment on it though, but instead stands in front of the foot of the bed with his hands on his hips, looking for any possible symptom that something might be wrong. His heart beats loud, but Zayn just sits there, swallows a few times like his mouth is dry and peers down onto the bed.

 

"I think," he says, his fingers smoothing over the duvet. The bottom of his eyes are red and puffy, squinting slightly and still looks like he's trying hard to keep his eyes wide. Liam doesn't move from his spot, stays rooted there in front of Zayn, afraid he might say he needs to vomit or anything of the sort. "I think I _did_ hit the bong too hard." Trailing off almost dramatically, Zayn looks up at him with his brows high on his forehead, a young and childish expression crossing his face.

 

And Liam can't help when the corner of his mouth twitches and Zayn smiles back at him, the two falling into a fit of laughter. The sound fills the room and the pit of Liam's belly, aching his side that makes the booze turn over in his stomach and makes him a little nauseous. But he doesn't stop, he lets his laughter die with Zayn when bursts of giggles bubble in his chest every minute or so.

 

He brings his hand up and fumbles with the bottom of Liam's shirt, rolls the fabric in between his fingers, but still his eyes never leaves Liam. And even when Liam looks away with a redness to his cheeks that isn't just from the alcohol, his gaze averting to the way Zayn's fingers twitch and curl.

 

"Come here." He mumbles and Liam blinks slowly, watching Zayn pull at his tee shirt. His knees frame Zayn's sides, knocking clumsily into his ribcage.

 

Liam nods, licking his lips and he sits down on to the hard mattress. Zayn doesn't let go of his shirt though, holding it awkwardly in between them. "Are you okay?" He asks again, just to make sure. This time, his voice is soft and less sharp with concern.

 

Bringing his bottom lip into his mouth, Zayn nods. He runs his thumb over Liam's shirt, his red rimmed eyes lifting its gaze. "Can we lay down?" His lips barely move, mumbling out the words and almost slurring, but Liam nods.

 

In his chest, his heart beat quickens. They haven't done something like this in what feels like ages, ever since the end of their last tour. Zayn would crowd Liam's space, curl up into him after they'd shower. His hair would still be wet when he'd place his head on Liam's chest, and Liam would run his fingers through the strands, the scent of Zayn's shampoo coating his fingertips. He'd be warm and cuddly and sleepy, and when Liam would wake up, Zayn would still be there, crowding his space, arm wrapped firmly around Liam's waist like holding a teddy bear at night.

 

The distance that formed between them ever since the announcement was, and still is, aching. It's in his bones, his thoughts, his heart. There's a sense of loneliness that passes through him, nags at him like a toothache he's had for years. But Zayn's here now, head falling to Liam's chest again as he shift upward on the bed and over the sheets. Wrapping his legs around one of Liam's, Zayn nuzzles into his neck. And he's all up in Liam's space again,  smelling of sweat and weed, but there's hints of his cologne that Liam makes out. It's good, it's normal, but it makes heat spread from Liam's heart to his fingertips and toes. But it's still aching though, to have Zayn this close and yet to feel so far away from him. Because in a few more days, Zayn's going to be married. He's officially going to belong to someone else, build and spend the rest of his life with them. And Liam will have to live without him, he will have to watch Zayn everyday knowing that he never really got to love him, even if it was just for a little while. The slow buzz that resonates through Liam's body dulls into a cold numb.

 

Breathing into his neck, Zayn shifts next to him and Liam places a hand at the small of the other man's back, his free hand sifting through Zayn's hair. And he hums hotly into Liam's neck, lips brushing the skin there and it hurts with just how much Liam wants. He wants and wants and wants, but he can never have it. He could never have Zayn. And with each breath that puffs past his lips and onto Liam's collarbone, he thinks it to himself like a mantra while goosebumps rise on his arms.

 

He closes his eyes. Zayn shifts against him again, something rough poking at the outside of Liam's thigh. Liam opens his eyes, freezing and staring wide eyed at the ceiling. His heart beats in his throat.

 

_Oh._

 

Through closed lips, Zayn suppresses a whimper, grabbing a hold of the center of Liam's shirt and curling his hand into a fist. It's there again, and the button of Zayn's jeans scrape against the flesh just above the waistband to Liam's trousers. He doesn't look down to meet Zayn's eyes.

 

"M'really hard." Zayn mumbles into his chest. And Liam -- he doesn't know what to make of that. They've been in this position in the past of course, when they'd go on tour for months on end with such little privacy. But with a trip to the bathroom or their respective bunks and hotel rooms, they never didn't have a place to take care of those personal matters. Judging by the pressing weight on his chest, Liam infers that Zayn doesn't plan to move any time soon.

 

He licks his dry lips, head still fuzzy with alcohol and yet steadily sobering up with the unfolding events. Zayn shifts above him and fucking Christ, Liam can feel Zayn's dick rutting against his thigh. Seconds pass as he struggles to find the right words, but his tongue is stuck to the roof of his mouth and the buzz is back, strumming it's way to his fingers and pleasantly numbing his whole body, and yet so hyper aware of everything. "Yeah?" He ends up croaking out, barely above a whisper and his tone must spark something within Zayn when his hips buck, his face burying deeper into Liam's neck.

 

"Yeah." He sounds breathy and his voice is slow, the way Liam has only heard once or twice in the past. He used it to pull girls, mostly. But there was the time Liam will never forget, back in the days in the tour bus. It was the Take Me Home tour when Zayn just started dating Perrie. They liked to talk on the phone then, and Liam never forgot the night where he lied awake in his bunk because he heard the low murmurs Zayn whispered into the receiver just behind the curtain. He had to wait nearly an hour for Zayn to hang up the phone and go to bed before he could touch himself.

 

A weird sense of pride washes over Liam, just being able to hear it directed toward him. But it doesn't steady the beating of his heart in his chest, does nothing to stop the surge that charges through him and pulses the base of his cock. He parts his lips in the dark of the room, licking them but also thinks of Zayn licking them instead. He opens and closes and reopens his mouth again in order to pluck up the courage to say what he wants. "Do you want me to leave?" And he says it so quietly, breath against Zayn's hair like its a secret to be kept.

 

Zayn picks his head up, tilting his chin upward until their eyes meet. And even in the darkness of the room, Liam can make out the glassiness of his eyes, the deep red of his lips where they're bitten raw. The otherwise fucked expression that only confirms one thing. "No, I just--" Liam shifts his leg forward and watches the way Zayn bites his lip again, the way his eyelashes flutter when his hips cant upward and he suppresses a moan deep in his throat. "Want you to stay," he breaths, maybe even gasps. The clear disjointedness of Zayn's thoughts paint across his face, smear along his mouth, mirrors in his eyes when they meet Liam's again. "Stay with me, Liam."

 

And Liam can't really argue with that, not with the pleading nature of Zayn's voice, the intensity of his gaze, and the way he still has Liam's shirt clutched in his fist.

 

He nods though, words failing him when his mouth is dry and nothing seems good enough to say anyway. Liam nods and Zayn leaves his head like that, angled toward Liam's face, sharp wisps of breath just below his collarbones. Zayn's hips circle leisurely, a pace that makes his jaw slack. And Liam watches, his hand frozen in Zayn's hair, eyes fixated on the way Zayn's lips quiver like he's whispering dirty things under his breath. Liam doesn't move, barely even breathes when Zayn is getting off just by rubbing up against him.

 

But then his hips stop. It's abrupt, like a realization and Liam wonders if this is the moment where Zayn's reminded that this isn't something they do together. "Is this--" He starts and Liam's chest deflates quick. Licking his lips, he doesn't meet Liam's eyes nor does he move and for a split second, Liam thinks that Zayn stopped breathing all together. "Is this okay?” he whispers in the dark, voice shaky and afraid. The fist that has a full grip on Liam’s heart squeezes and his toes curl from inside his shoes. “Is this weird?"

 

And that's a funny thing to ask, Liam thinks. To have his best friend of five years rutt up against his leg in an attempt to get off, it should be weird. God, it should be. And Liam should stop him, he should say _yes, it’s weird_ , but his eyes stare at his shirt still in Zayn’s grasp, He counts every intake of breath Zayn takes and thinks about how in a matter of days, their relationship will change drastically. Everything will be different, will slip as easily as sand can slip between fingers. And is it wrong to want this? Is it wrong for Liam to want to have Zayn like this, to share the last intimate moments they might never have again? He opens his mouth, but the words hesitate on the tip of his tongue.

 

"It's not weird." he says finally, quiet between them like a secret to be kept, the lively sounds of the boys on the other side of the door faint. But they feel far away, distant. And Liam doesn’t feel grounded, like his body is hovering just over the bed and he’s never been this drunk before, drunk from the booze, drunk in love with a less than sober Zayn next to him.

 

Zayn lifts his head off of Liam’s chest at that, leaning on one elbow with their eyes meeting and there’s something in Zayn’s gaze that makes Liam’s insides squirm. Whether it’s the intensity of his gaze or the relief smoothing the lines on his forehead, it’s _something_. And his hand loosens from the bottom of Liam’s shirt all together, his palm flat on Liam’s lower tummy. Liam’s whole body freezes, tries not to move the lower half of his body in case Zayn accidentally touches his erection. But the way Zayn smiles, a small twitch at the corner of his mouth, suggests he feels the way Liam goes rigid underneath him. “Are you sure?”

 

Biting at the inside of his cheek, Liam can still feel Zayn’s own erection against his thigh. The heat of his palm seeps through Liam’s shirt and onto his skin, the tip of Zayn’s forefinger rubbing back and forth lightly while the arm holding his weight quivers. Zayn’s eyes are still glassy, the bottom red and puffy, and Liam nods because he’s still drunk. He licks his bottom lip and doesn’t expect Zayn’s gaze to follow the action. “Yeah.”

 

And his gaze stays on Liam’s mouth, gaze flitting over every inch, and every line. And it’s like Liam has been thrown back in time when they were just starting out as a band, when every rouse between them were experimental. When Zayn had laughed as he pushed at Liam’s chest, the boyish features of his eighteen year old self tested Liam’s limits. Where the smirk on his face led to pressing their foreheads together and Liam could feel his cheeks and the back of his neck get hot, the corners of his mouth aching from how hard he’d been smiling. When Zayn’s gaze briefly flit to Liam’s mouth before meeting his eyes again, a devilish glint hidden behind amber eyes, muttering, _“Come on, then. Come on.”_ And it was supposed to have been bait, to reel Liam in and he had smiled wider with laughter on the tip of his tongue, just in time for Zayn to close the gap and press their mouths together. When Liam’s feelings for Zayn had touched the surface without breaking it for air.

 

Only that time, Liam had been able to shy away. And here, sitting in the hotel room with Zayn leaning on every part of him, there is no way he could get away from it all. Zayn’s staring at him like he’s waiting for something, but Liam doesn’t know what he wants. And he doesn't realize his hands are shaking until Zayn's gaze breaks and reaches for one, bringing the palm up to his lips. His eyes fall shut as he leaves butterfly kisses there, touches his mouth with the tips of Liam's fingers. And it's the most intimate thing Liam has ever experienced, sitting in the dark with his fingers skimming Zayn's lips, Zayn holding onto his wrist like he doesn't want to let go. But Liam lets him, let's Zayn guide his hand and lets himself trace Zayn's beautiful fucking mouth. He lets his fingers curl, lets his fingernails scrape the skin there a little.

 

"Feels good." Zayn says when the pads of Liam's fingertips skim over his bottom lip. And Liam's breath catches because, yeah, it does feel good, makes every nerve buzz all the way down to his cock. He doesn’t have anything to say, can’t come up with a coherent thought when Zayn’s eyes keep fluttering closed, when parts his lips just in time Liam’s fingers brush across them.

 

The peace stops when Zayn shifts the leg hooked around Liam’s and pulls himself into Liam’s lap, grinding onto his cock. Liam’s eyes widen and he jerks his knee up a little too high into Zayn's crotch. And Zayn moans in reflex, body going lax and Liam can't move from the weight that's being pressed into him, only has to watch Zayn blink slow and breathe deep to recover. And fuck, Liam's never seen him like this before and he can't look away, doesn't want to. Zayn's hand drops from Liam's hand to his chest, but Liam doesn't move his hand, keeps it there on his lips.

 

Zayn breathes and watches him, fingers curling against Liam's shirt. And something hangs in the air between them when Zayn slowly let's his hips down again, their erections obvious and pressing. "It's okay," Liam whispers in the dark and he's scared, but he says it. "It's not weird." And Zayn must believe him, too, because he nods after a pause.

 

"It's not weird." He repeats, but then Zayn's eyes are no longer meeting Liam's. Instead, they lower a fraction back down to his lips again. The world slows because Liam doesn't stop it, doesn't look or shy away when Zayn licks his lips and leans forward, invading Liam's space. But not like he had done at the club, not when Liam's whole body warms when their lips brush, Zayn's eyelashes tickling Liam's cheekbones. "It's not weird." He breathes again into Liam's mouth this time, and Liam shakes his head. And it's not weird when Zayn presses their mouths together and kisses him. It's not weird because it's everything Liam has ever wanted and everything he's ever ached for.

 

And it's there. It's there like a prepared speech or a written letter, sliding along Zayn's bottom lip. _I'm so unbelievably in love with you. Stay with me, stay with me please. I love you._ But it hits him like a blow to the chest, like Zayn sucker punched him in the gut when he's just stroking the tips of his fingers underneath Liam's shirt, a feather like touch just under his belly button. And with each kiss, each little bite Zayn's teeth nips at Liam's lips, it's a reminder that this something Liam will never be able to have. Zayn could kiss him like this all they want and still in the end, he won't be Liam's. They won't get to kiss like this again, all slow and precise, won't get to run their fingertips lightly, so lightly, across the planes of the others bodies. And Zayn's hands on him sets fire to Liam's skin, and all he can think is _want, want, want,_  tongue swiping the inside of Zayn's mouth and he tastes like vodka and weed. His long lashes brush Liam's cheekbones with ticklish strokes, and Liam wants to smile into the kiss because this was everything he ever wanted.

 

Zayn doesn't stop kissing him, doesn't stop dragging his lips across Liam's. Even when he shifts to straddle Liam, he doesn't stop moving his hands up Liam's shirt until his forefinger runs over one of Liam's nipples and circles small patterns there. And although it's slow, their breathes catch, gasping into each other's mouth and when Zayn accidentally (or perhaps not so accidentally) grinds his hips down into Liam's cock, Liam's hands reach out involuntarily to grab Zayn's hips to hold him there. The moan he tries to suppress fails and Liam closes his eyes as it falls from his mouth and onto Zayn's tongue. Breaking the kiss, Zayn gazes down at him with swollen red lips and glassy, half lidded eyes. There's a pause that passes between them, Zayn looking down at Liam, eyes averting to his eyes, lips and back. But he brings his own bottom lip into his mouth when he circles his hips down experimentally, their clothed dicks aligning and planting his palms down on Liam's chest for leverage. And it feels like Liam's thrown back to the beginnings of his embarrassing teenage years where dry humping was all the rage because of raging hormones. It should be embarrassing to do that now with Zayn, but it feels good, too fucking good and Liam brings his hands to hold Zayn's waist as he grinds, hips snapping.

 

"Don't stop," Zayn gasps out and tips his head back, eyes fluttering closed. And Liam doesn't, starts moving his own hips to meet Zayn's pace. He lets his gaze wander, too; over the line of Zayn's neck, Adam's apple bobbing with every hard swallow he takes, down to the outline of his dick in his basketball shorts, a small stain there, wet with precome.

 

And Liam can do nothing but watch; watch the way Zayn bites his lip and hutches forward, kissing Liam's neck every now and again, sloppy and open mouthed. He does nothing but hold Zayn's hips there, white knuckles because while his body screams that this is okay, his mind tells him otherwise. That it's wrong for him to want this, for them to be getting off with nothing but friction and kissing intimately. But the pace only increases and their breathing gets louder until they're panting into each other's necks.

 

"I'm gonna come, Li." And they're words that make the muscles in Liam's lower stomach tense, makes his cock twitch because god it must be so impossible to want someone this badly. "Gonna come, just like this."

 

"Come on, then." Liam says without thinking, feels the way Zayn's teeth sinks into his shoulder in response. The pit of his own gut pools with heat. "Come on." And Zayn whines in the crook of Liam’s neck, body jerking as he cants his hips up, but each thrust is longer than the other, just a drag against Liam's body as he comes. Until he stops all together, just unevenly breathing while his body goes slack on top of Liam's, and Liam rubs at Zayn's lower back even if he's still hard and hasn't came.

 

Zayn notices when he finally sits up again and accidentally rubs against Liam's sensitive dick, tucked away in his jeans. He blinks down at the hard line straining against the fabric, licking his lips with a small, "Oh." And it's difficult to meet Zayn's eyes, but Liam does, flushed with embarrassment and amazement. Licking his lips again, Zayn starts to move his hand down along Liam's torso and Liam spots the obvious wet stain on Zayn's trousers from where he came. Fucking _christ._ "You should let me--" he begins, but clears his throat and tilts his head to the side like he's trying to find the right words, brow furrowing and Liam doesn't think it's possible for his heart to beat any faster, but it does. "I can suck you off, if you want."

 

Liam stares at him and goes over the words in his head many times to make sure he heard Zayn correctly. What the fuck. Honestly, what the fuck. But he won't deny that he wants it, fucking hell, does Liam want it, and Zayn must think it, too, with the way one corner of his mouth turns up and his fingers start circling around the zipper of Liam's jeans. But it's like Liam's senses come to light through the haze of drunkeness when he reaches forward and pries Zayn's hand off his dick, replying with, "That's okay." It's a surprise even to his own hears when he says it and Zayn looks at him with a confused expression. Gently, he pushes at Zayn's shoulders ( _No, what are you doing?_ ) until Zayn takes the hint and swings his legs back over as to no longer straddle Liam's waist. He sits back on the bed with his legs folded underneath him, brows knitted together when he looks up at Liam who stands from the bed.

 

"I should go." Liam knows he sounds guilty, with the way he stands there with his hand covering his crotch to try and cover his obvious erection. But his body tells him to stay and so does the pleading glint in Zayn's eyes. He starts for the door before Zayn could say anything and convince him to stay, one hand still covering his dick and the other reaching for the knob of the door. And when he gets there, he grips it hard in his hand, but doesn't turn, words lingering in his mouth like a bad taste. He glances at Zayn again over his shoulder; frowning into the duvet, the light from the window reflecting against Zayn's nose stud. “I, uh -- you should get some sleep, if you’re still not feeling better.” Guilt settles in when Zayn brings his lips together and nods more to himself than to Liam, and like -- shit, he didn’t mean to make it awkward, but Jesus, Zayn just fucking came in his fucking jeans, just from rubbing up against Liam’s pelvis. And that -- that’s a lot to take in.

 

So, he mumbles goodnight and heads out the door with a sharp snap. The boys don’t notice Liam crossing the living room with his hands on his groin, carries on playing a drinking game in the kitchen loudly and Liam tip toes as to not be spotted. And he’s able to get to his room, close the door and is left in the darkness of the room. Shame starts from the pain in his balls up to his forehead where a headache pulses, and the heat in his cheeks and at the back of his neck is enough to make him lean back against the door. He takes deep breaths, wills his erection to go away, but it won’t and frustrated tears spring to his eyes. _Why_ did he have to feel this way about Zayn? _Why_ did that have to happen and why is this so difficult for him? Why can’t it be easy? And the heat of embarrassment doesn’t go away, not when he annoyingly strips out of his clothes and into the shower. Steam relaxes the tension around his muscles and the pressure of the water from noisy shower head against the tiles covers up when Liam moans while leaning against the wall, coming into his hand and thinking nothing but Zayn.

 

By the time he comes down, he blinks through wet lashes and watches the white stickiness wash away from his hands and thighs, and spiral down the strain and out of sight. And he tries to convince himself that he had been dreaming, that he’s dreaming now and none of tonight was real. But although the evidence is gone, he still feels the ghost of Zayn’s fingertips on his stomach, his lips on Liam’s mouth and neck. He hears the echo of Zayn moaning against him, body shaking and knows that it was real.

 

And Liam doesn’t know what to think about that.

 

3 days left.

 

The next morning is mortifying. Liam exits his room, sleepy and hungry, clad in just a pair of boxer shorts. He doesn’t realize that Louis and Zayn are sitting on the kitchen island until they spot him first, their conversation dying into silence. Freezing, Liam feels Zayn’s gaze on him for no longer than a moment and by the time Liam looks at him, he'd already avert his eyes. And it wouldn't worry Liam so such if it weren't for the fact the two of them were sipping tea at ten in the morning, Zayn clutching the mug in his hand close to his body. Zayn never drinks tea unless he's sick or stressed and he doesn't appear to be sick, so. Liam narrows it down, but isn't able to pinpoint why.

 

That is, until Louis meets his eyes like something's wrong and Zayn won't fucking look at him, shifting in his seat. But that -- doesn't really make any sense.

 

"Is something wrong?"

 

Louis clears his throat, shakes his hand and runs a hand through his unwashed hair. Zayn still doesn't say anything, but his fingers tap against the glass of his mug. Shit. "Yeah, yeah, we're good." Bringing his mug up to his lips, Louis finishes off his teams sets it down with a clang. "Well," he starts abrasively, slamming his hands down onto the counter that startles both Liam and Zayn. "We should, uh, get ready then, yeah? We're set to leave around three, so." Trailing off, he claps his hands together, his eyes darting to Liam with a hint of desperation. Fuck. "I'm gonna go shower."

 

So, he leaves. Louis fucking leaves, the door snapping shut behind him, and all that leaves is Liam and Zayn in complete, and awkward silence. Clearing his throat, Liam takes a step forward into the kitchen and sets the kettle on. "Did you sleep okay?" Liam tries and watches as Zayn's body tense, his eyes narrowing.

 

He shrugs, sipping at his tea that must be cold by now. Okay, so Liam’s not getting a straight answer, that’s how they’re playing today. He gets it though; last night he left in a weird manner that suggested the next morning was definitely going to be awkward.

 

For good measure, Liam slides into the seat next to Zayn, who hunches his shoulders forward the way he does when he’s guarded. “Hey,” he starts gently and sees the way Zayn visibly relaxes. “We’re okay, right? It’s not weird?” And it’s at those three familiar words that Zayn lets himself look up at him, their eyes meeting in recognition, knowing that those aren’t just simple words anymore. They are a reminder of kisses along necks and the brushing of lips. It’s a reminder of fucking without really touching and that thought alone is enough to make Liam’s cheeks heat. Zayn sees it too, his gaze briefly averting -- but only briefly, his lips parting at the sight.

 

And then he swallows hard, looking away back down into his mug. “It’s not weird.” he repeats, the corner of his mouth turning up before he laughs in what sounds like relief.

 

But it only lasts for long. Harry and Niall comes clambering into the kitchen complaining about room service the same moment Zayn’s smile fades and he looks more forlorn than before. Lines form around his forehead and mouth, and he doesn’t speak, let alone look at Liam for the rest of the day.

 

They leave for Paris four hours later. After they’ve all showered and packed, and Preston has checked out for them, they split up into the jets, Harry and Niall climbing into one, leaving Liam, Louis and Zayn in the other. And in any other circumstances, that would’ve been fine, great even. But Zayn still won’t look at him, keeps to himself on the jet with his knees up in his chest, headphones in his ears as he looks out the window. And to make matters worse, Louis keeps looking at Liam for Zayn, and every time they lock gazes, Louis looks away like he’s been caught in the act. But the act -- the act of what?

 

When they arrive at the hotel in Paris, Perrie’s there waiting for them. She smiles when she spots Zayn, and Liam can’t look away when she tucks her arms around his waist, standing on her tip toes to kiss Zayn on the mouth. And for once, Liam sees the way Zayn drops his bag from his arm and gently presses his hand to her cheek, closes his eyes and kisses her back.

 

His throat closes, heart dropping into his stomach and it hurts more now than it had in the past because he can’t get the image of Zayn’s face just before he leaned in and kissed him. Louis claps a hand to Liam’s shoulder and as to not make it obvious, Liam finally looks away, his gaze downcast. But he thinks that Louis notices anyway when he squeezes there and tucks Liam in close to his neck. He doesn’t know why Louis’ doing it, but silently appreciates it, breathes in the scent of hotel soap that’s on Louis skin. And when he pulls himself out of Louis’ embrace, Zayn finds his eyes as Perrie intertwines their fingers.

 

The boys don’t see him for the rest of the night, and Perrie and Zayn are absent at dinner. Niall cracks a few jokes at that and Harry whistles lowly with a smirk. Liam and Louis are the only ones that don’t laugh.

 

2 days left.

 

The third time it happens Liam isn't sure who to blame.

 

It's around six p.m. when guests file into a private little restaurant by the water for the rehearsal dinner. And it's a nice place she picked out; the building is slim, delicately painted white with a patio around the back, surrounded by a garden packed with beautiful flower. Perrie comes in wearing a pretty, deep purple dress that everyone loves and adores, hair pinned back from her face to show off her smile. On her arm, Zayn's decked out in a black suit that reminds Liam of the American Music Awards. He looks good, always looks good and expensive, but every smile he flashes and every handshake he gives seems half assed. Yet there's a pull in his neck that strains, so Liam knows he's genuinely trying.

 

Liam decides to arrive on his own, rather than waiting for the other boys. Even if Louis insisted that they can arrive together, Liam receiving several phone calls and text messages, including knocks on his hotel room door (Liam ran into the bathroom and pretended he was in the shower until Louis decided to finally go away). It was nothing personal, never nothing personal. Liam admires Louis efforts to make him feel better about this whole catastrophe, although Liam can't imagine why Louis would think to do that in the first place.

 

The boys are already there when Liam enters the hall; big and spacious, several tables covered in white tablecloths and Ivory roses in crystal vases as center pieces. Three walls are tiled mirrors, reflecting the light that streams in through the back doors that opens up to the garden that overlooks the water outside. Needless to say, it's beautiful. At the entrance, a small table to his left reads the place cards and Liam's, of course, sat with his three boys, adjacent to the small table that sits Perrie, Zayn and their immediate families. Liam's also sat with Perrie's bridesmaids, the three girls of Little Mix. They attempt to make conversation, but the whole table sense Liam's distraction, so Harry and Niall do most of the talking (what they're best at) and keep them laughing. To Liam's surprise, Louis seems just as distracted as he is. His gaze keeps moving from Liam, his arm sitting at the back at Liam's chair, and bopping up in his seat to get a better look at Zayn and chewing on his bottom lip, looking like he's waiting for something.

 

And that sets Liam's nerves on edge, that something's going to happen, bound to happen. Anxiety bubbles in the bottom of his stomach and because of it, he finds himself looking up at Zayn between taking sips of his glass of wine. Zayn doesn't notice, makes his way through each table to greet the guests with a fake smile that Liam can recognize. He sees the way the corner of his mouth pulls and the harsh lines around them, the way his eyes are dark and emotionless, just going through the motions as he’s expected to be. It sets Liam on edge, makes his skin crawl and even more so when Zayn and Perrie come around to their table.

 

The first time Zayn’s gaze falls upon him, it’s quick; his eyes simply fall over Liam’s form like a passing glance and -- that’s it, he moves on to the rest of the boys and Jesy, Jade and Leigh-Anne, and heads back to his table, rushed and with hurried feet. Luckily, Liam isn’t the only one that notices; Jesy scoffs in her seat, Perrie looking away with a press of her lips. Harry even thumbs back to the table in a playful, but incredulous manner like he can’t believe it himself. Liam doesn’t say anything, but interestingly enough, neither does Louis.

 

Dinner is served about ten minutes later; a choice between chicken, fish, and an Paki dish that Perrie and her family thought was absolutely fabulous (Trisha rounds the table some time afterwards and takes Jade’s seat when she’s off using the bathroom. Shaking her head, she places a hand on Liam and Louis’ shoulder, looking between them pleadingly. Liam can relate; he smiles sheepishly and holds her hand in between his). Chatter takes place while mostly everyone eats, temporarily swapping the seating arrangements where Louis takes a seat next to Zayn, and Doniya takes the seat next to Liam, because she claims she always liked him best and pours more wine into his glass (Liam doesn’t complain, he figures he’s probably going to need it. And she laughs at his jokes, so that’s always good).

 

Sometime during desert when Liam’s more than a little tipsy, Perrie stands and clears her throat. A small smile sits on her mouth as she holds her champagne flute in her hands, and when the room goes quiet and she has everyone’s attention, she speaks.

 

“I just want to thank everyone for coming today, it really means a lot to me and Zayn.” she looks to him still sitting next to her. Zayn’s eyebrows raise while he takes a sip from his glass and when Perrie makes a motion for him to get up, Liam sees the way Zayn’s body goes all awkward like he doesn’t know what to do with his limbs. He stands, though, clears his throat, too, and licks his lips.

 

“Uh, yeah, what Pez said. It really means a lot to us, you know, finally doing this, so it’s cool.” There’s a pause where he looks down at the table, blinking slowly like he’s thinking and the silence that stretches throughout the hall causes a few whispers of confusion. “I want to give a big thanks to the four best guys I have ever known.” And Liam doesn’t understand. He doesn’t think anyone understands, not with the way Niall’s brow furrows and from across the room, Yaser tilts his head to the side. But Zayn’s tone is sincere and he looks out at the table. And for a second, Liam thinks he imagines Zayn’s gaze on him, looking directly at him, as if he’s speaking just to him, or that he’s really all that matters. “Without them, without everything we’ve done together, I would’ve never met Pez.” He scrunches his brows together, his lips curling, but Liam’s unsure if it’s a smile or not. And it’s not the fact that he can’t pinpoint Zayn’s expression that makes him nervous, but Liam’s fingers curl and suddenly more wine sounds a lot better than having Zayn look at him like that. “You’ve always been there for me, through all the ups and downs. I owe you a lot more than I would ever know. I love you.”

 

Liam’s chest pounds, stomach churning with too much wine. His chest pounds and Zayn’s looking at him with his jaw tensing, and Liam head spins and there’s the taste of wine and unsaid words left on his tongue. And there it is again, the same words that makes Liam’s hands shake, the ones that make him jam his teeth down until the bitter and metallic taste of blood stains his mouth. It’s everything he wants to say and more, and he wishes that he shout at the top of his lungs, that he could stand from his seat and cross the room, grab Zayn by the back of his neck and kiss him. He’ll have Zayn’s lips brush against Liam’s mouth like in Amsterdam, and Zayn will breathe into his neck and cling onto Liam’s shirt like he’s the only thing that really matters in the world. And Liam’s lips part because he won’t look away, refuses to, bottom lip quivering with all he wants to say, all that he hasn’t said and the way Zayn looks back at him is like a challenge. But it falls flat before Liam gets the courage to say something, dies in his lungs before he even breathed and in defeat, he averts his eyes and avoids Zayn’s gaze.

 

The room falls into a series of 'Aw's when Louis stands from his seat next to Zayn, grabs him by the shoulder and pulls him into hug. But luckily Niall or Harry doesn't stand from their seats for one of their infamous five piece hug. They clap and smile, and in order to not feel or make him seem out of place, Liam puts his glass down and claps, too. And then the room falls into a series of applause, and although it makes no sense for Zayn to make this about his boys and not his fiancé, no one says a thing. Perrie gives a thin lipped smile as she rubs Zayn's back with her hand.

 

And when he breaks away from Louis' embrace, he smiles shyly out into the crowd, reaches for his own flute of champagne in another thanks. They hold up their drinks for a toast, but Liam's body feels numb and his stomach is uneasy. And he doesn't want to have any irrational thoughts, that instead of speaking to all the boys, Zayn's words were just for him. But it's just cruel punishment for the fact Liam has waited so long; he has loved and in two days, he will have lost and that will be the end of it.

 

Music overhead sounds when Zayn and Perrie take their seats again, the quests continuing to finish their deserts or heading toward the bar for more complimentary drinks. And as Doniya refills Liam's glass, he watches the wine slosh the sides and he thinks about how long he could bite the inside of his cheeks before they tear open and spill out.

 

1 day left.

 

The fourth time it happens, it's around midnight. After the rehearsal dinner, Liam feels the weight of emotion pull at his back and tug at the muscles of his shoulder blades. The middle of his forehead pulses from the after effects of the wine and he thinks about how Harry had been the one that escorted Liam back to his hotel room because Liam hadn't been able to stand without wobbling on his feet.

 

"How much did you have to drink?" Harry smirks and because Liam didn't want to tell him how he drank to get Zayn's words out of his head and Zayn's taste out of his mouth, he shakes his head.

 

"I'm just -- _so_ happy for him." And if Liam's tone had sounded bitter, Harry either didn't notice or he hadn't said anything. He thankfully let the subject drop, wrapping an arm around Liam's waist and led him out of the hall.

 

"Let's get you back to your room."

 

And he did. Harry drove Liam the short fifteen minutes back to the hotel, didn't let Liam sway too far out of reach when taking the elevator up. He didn't even leave the room until Liam told him at least five times that he was fine on his own and that Harry could go back to the dinner if he wanted. And although Harry squinted his eyes and pursed his lips the way he does when he's concerned, he leaves Liam alone without any further questions. So, Liam undressed, changed into his favorite and comfiest pair of sweats, and stayed put in his bed, looking up at the ceiling until the wine kicked in and he fell asleep.

 

When he wakes, his headache and the light in the room that seeped in through the curtains are gone. The blinking green lights on the cable box is the only light source, other than the screen of Liam’s phone sitting on the side table. And the first thing he sees is Zayn’s name at the very top, the number three beside it and Louis is right below him, paired up with a voicemail.

 

Blinking, he wipes a hand over his face in a sigh, tapping on Louis’ voicemail and puts his phone on speaker. _“Liam,”_ Louis breathes into the receiver and Liam can make out a different voice in the background, mumbling. _“We, uh, wanted to know if you’re alright--” “Ask him why he left so early.”_ The voice in the background asks and it’s Zayn, all low and slurring. _“Just, ah, give me a ring, maybe.”_ Louis continues almost apologetically and clicks off while Zayn’s in the middle of saying something. And that was a half hour ago.

 

He furrows his brow in confusion, doesn’t understand Louis’ message, Zayn’s interference or Liam’s three missed calls by him. All of Zayn’s calls are constant, too; one right after the other. And Liam’s first initial reaction, is that something is wrong with Zayn, because he’s always thinking about Zayn’s wellbeing. But then there’s Louis message, Zayn in the background that came first before Zayn’s calls, and it’s weird and Liam doesn’t understand, doesn’t get it.

 

Until there’s a sharp knock on his door. And every vein in Liam’s body goes cold, waits a minute to make sure he isn’t imagining things before there’s another knock, longer and harder. He doesn’t think before he sprints from the bed to the door, undoing the lock with fumbling fingers and heart beating loud in his ears.

 

And the door opens. Liam doesn’t know what to expect when Zayn’s there, leaning his hand against the frame of the door while he waits. He looks up at Liam, red cheeks and eyes, pupils blown out with his lips bitten, swollen and puffy. Still wearing his attire from the rehearsal dinner, he must have left his suit jacket somewhere else and the buttons at his throat are undone haphazardly. And he reeks of fucking booze.

 

Liam blinks, jaw a little slack. “Zayn, what are you--” But once he gets the door open enough, Zayn starts for him.

 

He doesn’t give Liam time to think, just grabs him by both of Liam’s cheeks, palms sweaty and warm, and presses their mouths together with messy precision. And it takes him by surprise, Liam unsure of what to do with his hands, where to put them and awkwardly hovers them over Zayn’s shoulder blades as Zayn continues to kiss him. But the shock wears off when Zayn swipes his tongue over Liam’s bottom lip and the stale taste of beer sits there. He brings his hands to Zayn’s chest and pushes, pries him off although Zayn protests several times; kissing Liam’s neck while his hand runs down his stomach and his fingertips brush the waistband of Liam’s sweats. But Liam gets him off, holds him by the arms as Zayn’s gaze keeps darting to Liam’s lips, mouth shiny and the grip he has on Liam’s forearms are hard.

 

“Zayn,” Liam starts again, this time out of breath. “What -- what are you doing?”

 

A low whine comes from Zayn’s throat and that’s -- a little unfair considering the circumstances. “Need you, Liam,” he says, brings his bottom lip in his mouth and chews, his fingernails digging into Liam’s skin. Liam watches the way Zayn swallows hard in what looks like need. “Always need you.”

 

Exhaling sharply, Liam shakes his head. He honestly should have known. “You’re drunk, Zayn.”

 

“Please, Liam. Please, I need you so much.” Wringing his wrists, he tries to get out of Liam’s grasp with a pained expression painted across his face. And as much as Liam wants to smoothen out the wrinkles in Zayn’s forehead and kiss the redness around his wrists, Liam can’t give Zayn this, not when he can smell the alcohol off of him just by Zayn speaking.

 

So, he says, “I know,” instead, eases Zayn’s worry by softly shushing him and loosening his grip on Zayn’s wrists. “I know.” Shuffling in closer, Zayn fits himself in the frame of Liam’s shoulders and breathes against his neck. “But you’re not thinking straight, okay? You need to lay down.” But Zayn keeps shaking his head and mumbling drunken words into Liam’s skin, his lips brushing against the joint between Liam’s neck and shoulder, leaving goosebumps there.

 

Liam ends up having to pry him off again, tugging Zayn by the arm to lead him toward the bed. They stumble a few times, Zayn's coordination off, but Liam's there and Zayn doesn't stop muttering thank yous underneath his breath. Kicking off his shoes, Zayn curls into the bed, lays on top of the duvet and places his head on his hands, lip tucked into his mouth again. And Liam pauses before laying in the spot facing him, but Zayn looks up at him with soft eyes and Liam thinks of how he could ever say no to someone like him.

 

The bed dips as Liam sits onto the bed, shifts until he's laying down just parallel of Zayn. Time elapses until Liam doesn't know how long it's been, just knows he's looking at Zayn, and he is looking back at him. He knows the feeling in his lungs have more to do with the fact that Zayn doesn't look away from him, and that he'll never really know the feelings Liam has harboured for so long, that sometimes it feels like he could burst open at the seams.

 

Licking his lips, Zayn's voice comes out barely above a whisper. "What do you think I should do?"

 

"With what?"

 

"Perrie."

 

And Liam frowns at that, scared about what this means or could mean. Because Zayn was supposed to get married to her and Liam was supposed to be ready to lose Zayn forever. "What about Perrie?"

 

The color in Zayn's face drains, his eyes rounding and waterline shimmering, and he looks absolutely fucking terrified. "I dunno if I really want to spend the rest of my life with her." He whispers, lips hardly moving like it's a secret that needs to be kept.

 

Liam pauses, lips parted and eyebrows knitted together because -- well, how can Liam be perfectly fine watching Zayn get married to someone else if he's having doubts? How can Liam lose Zayn, if Zayn's aware he'll be lost? Trapped? Unhappy? "Well," Liam says softly, tries to think of something to say. "You love her, right?"

 

But Zayn's silence confirms all of Liam's worries; his eyes avert and he presses his lips together almost in shame. "I dunno." He starts and Liam thinks he feels his heart burst. "I don't think so." Rolling onto his back, Zayn states up at the ceiling, hands folded on his chest. Laying there, he sighs deeply and Liam watches as his eyes close.

 

Liam waits for Zayn to say something for several minutes, refusing to disturb the peace. The not so new, but now confirmed information floats at the surface in Liam's mind, sits there and watches and waits until he can't watch or wait anymore. And as the minutes pass, Zayn’s breathing evens out and Liam watches his chest rise and fall with every breath.

 

*** * ***

 

He calls Louis five minutes later, and he picks up in a hurried breath.

 

_“Thank god, Payno. Is Zayn with you?”_

“Yeah,” he breathes, leaning his head against the door of the bathroom, hoping he doesn’t wake Zayn on the other side. “What’s going on?”

 

 _“Good question.”_ He laughs and Liam can only imagine Louis shaking his head.   _“I dunno, I turned my back on him for a little more than ten minutes, and he’s with Harry and Niall at the bar, pissed. And he kept asking about you and why you left and if you were coming back. And then he asked me to ring you, so I did, and then when you weren’t picking up, he -- he fucking insisted on seeing you. I had to drive him back to the hotel, I -- I didn’t want him to do anything stupid, like, drive by himself or anything like that. And I tried to calm him down, you know? But he really, really wanted to see you, Liam.”_

 

And all Liam can think about is Zayn’s I need you so much, the bruising kisses he left along Liam’s mouth. He closes his eyes, jaw tensing.

 

Louis is quiet for a moment, just his breathing audible. _“What happened?”_

 

“Nothing,” Liam says immediately, “I think he was a little freaked out from the drinks.” he lies and the pause that extends between the two makes Liam feel like Louis doesn’t believe him, or he’s trying to, so he adds for good measure, “He’s resting now.”

 

 _“Alright,”_ Louis mutters. _“Just, ah, keep me posted, I suppose. Ring me later if anything.”_

 

“Yeah, I’ll do that.”

 

*** * ***

 

Zayn stirs from the bed a couple of hours later, the sheets rustling underneath him. Liam picks his head up from resting in his palm, unfolds his legs from underneath him. The television’s on it’s lowest setting and Liam looks away from a rerun of a French soap opera to give Zayn a sheepish smile.

 

“Hey,” he says and Zayn blinks with his eyebrows together, frowning. “You okay?”

 

Nodding, Zayn sits up from the bed and presses his palm to his forehead, lip curling and he hisses. When he retracts his hand away, he glares. “Why are you sitting in the armchair?”

 

Liam shifts in his seat, licking his lips and sets the remote control down onto the end table. “I didn’t want to bother you.” He admits semi-truthfully, his lips still buzzing from Zayn’s mouth earlier.

 

He doesn’t seem to buy it, though, squints at the television set and back. His fingers smooth over the duvet and Liam’s reminded of Amsterdam and the way Zayn liked to touch things when he’s high. “You never bother me, Liam.” Zayn mumbles gently and honestly, and it means more to him than Zayn will ever know. When neither of them say anything, Zayn leans against the headboard. “How long was I out?”

 

“A little while.” Liam responds, bites his lip before moving from the armchair by the window, the Paris lights flashing outside. He takes the spot by Zayn’s feet and sits at the edge of the bed, his hands folded in between his legs. Zayn won’t look at him, won’t meet his eyes and picks at his fingernails. But Liam eyes how his jaw tenses and how Zayn brings his knees up to his chest. “Do you remember what you said to me?”

 

Zayn pauses before nodding, licking his lips like he wants to say something, but doesn’t. And he looks guilty, like he’s been caught. Zayn’s bottom lip quivers and Liam stares at the long line of Zayn’s neck and how he swallows. But he doesn’t respond, doesn’t give Liam an answer and instead pulls his knees in closer to his chest. And Liam doesn’t know what that means, can just infer that Zayn’s scared. So, he takes a breath and places a warm and tender hand on Zayn’s knee, his thumb brushing the folds of his trousers.

 

Softly, Liam whispers, “Why are you here, Zayn?” And it’s like Zayn’s resolve cracks, the way he snaps his gaze up and just looks at him. The stiffness in his shoulders ease, the lines in his forehead smoothen out and when he reaches for Liam’s hand on his knee, he doesn’t just touch. He slips his fingers in the spaces in between Liam’s, and Liam let’s him.

 

“What should I do?” Their eyes follows the movements of Zayn’s hand, curling his fingers and making Liam’s breath catch.

 

And that’s not really for Liam to say. All he wants is for Zayn to be happy, that was all he ever wanted. “I think,” Liam begins slowly, lungs filling with words he can’t say, shouldn’t say, and feels Zayn hang onto every word like he’s waiting to hear them, waiting for them to finally escape past Liam’s lips. The palm of Zayn’s hand presses onto the top of his. “You should do what your heart tells you to do.”

 

Zayn hums and tilts his head to the side, but doesn’t stop moving his hand. He ghosts over the tips of Liam’s fingers and over his knuckles, the hair on his arm raising. Heart beat stuttering in his chest, Zayn takes his hand away and Liam feels the absence of Zayn's touch, his fingers twitching and curling into his palm with want. Exhaling, Liam's head spins and tries not to get too ahead of himself, but Zayn's hand comes to the back of Liam's neck. The center of his palm is warm and he scratches at the skin there, Zayn watching Liam with hooded eyes.

 

When his hand stops moving, he cups the back of Liam's neck. And he leans in close, invading Liam's space and licks his lips, his tongue temporarily catching on Liam's mouth. Eyelids fluttering, Liam leans into him, lets himself be tugged into Zayn's magnetic pull. And his entire world spins, Zayn breathing against Liam's lips and it takes everything in him not to nudge him closer, to have their mouths pressed together for the second third that week.

 

Zayn's the first one to lean in again, too. He captures Liam's bottom lip in his mouth, drags his tongue lightly over the flesh until Liam's mouth opens. The stale taste of sleep and alcohol sits in Zayn's open mouth, but Liam doesn't mind, kisses Zayn back, let's him set the pace. It’s, perhaps, more tentative and careful than the last kiss they shared, gentle with Zayn’s light touch at Liam’s neck. And a part of him doesn’t want careful, he doesn’t want Zayn to take his time with Liam like it’s okay, because they don’t have a lot of time, never will.

 

He doesn’t realize he’s held his breath when Zayn breaks away trails kisses down his neck and breathes, drunken lips mouthing over his collarbones, scribbling incoherent words with his fingertips running down and in between Liam's shoulder blades. And Liam feels the way his head spins, sees the way his vision blurs like tiny stars blinking before his eyes. With every stroke of Zayn's fingers, his chest tightens, throat closing on every gasp that flees from his lips and he struggles with wanting to let all the words that stays on the tip of his tongue spill out into the dip of Zayn's neck, on the inside of his cheek, in between his teeth until Zayn's tongue is reciting those words back to him when they swipe across Liam's mouth.

 

"I--" he gasps, but Zayn picks his head up out of the crook of Liam’s neck and shushes him with his thumb pressed to Liam's bottom lip. Eyes dark, Zayn licks his lips and shakes his head, but Liam’s whole body keens.   _I love you,_ he thinks, chest aching like it might burst from how much he feels. _I love you so much, I've always loved you._ But Zayn watches him with soft lidded eyes and he traces Liam's mouth until he presses their mouths together with messy precision.

 

It starts a wildfire in Liam’s heart and he doesn’t want it to stop, but he does. So, he lets him and kisses Zayn back just as hard, the whine in the back of his throat spilling out into the little space between them. Zayn’s fingers curl in the plane of Liam’s back, and in between kisses, Zayn breathes in sharply, his other hand resting against Liam’s chest. “I just--” he starts, lips shiny when he pulls away again, resting his forehead against Liam’s and they both gasp for air. “I really wanted to do that again.”

 

“Yeah?” Liam swallows, pressing a palm to his dick to hide his semi and hopes Zayn doesn’t notice. With a breathy laugh, Zayn nods his head and brushes their noses together.

 

“Can I do it again?”

 

He lets out a breath of a laugh, tries to think of several things for his erection to pass. "Yeah, you -- you can."

 

Zayn leans in, he shifts, parting his legs to bracket Liam's thighs before he kisses him. And this time, he kisses Liam hard, their mouths colliding that it's almost bruising, Zayn's teeth nipping at Liam's lip. He doesn't realize Zayn's hand comes in between them until he pushes at Liam's chest, momentarily breaking the kiss for Liam to lie back onto the bed, Zayn climbing into his lap.

 

It makes Liam nervous and it pools in his gut when Zayn sits on top of Liam's barely clothed cock and grinds. A moan falls faster from Liam's mouth before he can stop it and Zayn blinks down at him. Horrified, Liam stares back and watched as Zayn adjusts himself and sits lower on Liam's thighs. And there it is; the outline so obvious through the grey of Liam's sweatpants. How fucking embarrassing. "I'm so sorry." He utters out quickly and Zayn smiles endearingly.

 

But instead of responding, he rubs his hand over the outline, giving friction to his neglected cock. Well -- Liam really should've expected that. Yet as quickly as Zayn's hand works, it's gone and sits at Liam's inner thigh. It's in that moment that Liam remembers to breathe again while his dick hardens.

 

"Let me?" And it sounds innocent leaving Zayn's mouth with the way he asks, his hand running over Liam's thigh. Liam chews his bottom lip into his mouth, thinks about Zayn's hand on his cock. His fucking dick in his sweats twitch and they look down at the same time. The corner of Zayn's mouth twitches like he wants to smirk but refrains himself by licking his lips and Liam's cheeks flame a bright shade of pink at that. His hands skim Liam's waistband, pausing for consent.

 

He feels himself nod before he actually realizes that he's doing it, bites his lip as Zayn slips his fingers a few inches past the waistband and tugs. And lifting his hips up from the bed, Liam aids Zayn in taking his pants off and tries not to think about how Zayn's going to help him get off, let alone see his fucking dick. Liam's cock springs free, too, bobs once and curls against his lower tummy while he helps Zayn kick off his sweats around his ankles and to the floor.

 

Zayn stares down at Liam's cock with parted lips and a slight raise of his brow, and underneath him, Liam shifts self consciously, his hands coming to rest at his stomach as he has to fight the urge to cover himself up. And he does try, his fingers twitching before he actually starts to move his hand, but Zayn shakes his head and stops him.

 

"No," he shakes his head, Zayn licking his lips as he chuckles. "Just--" he pauses, the tips of his fingers rubbing into Liam's hipbone in reassurance. "Big." The word falls from Zayn's mouth with a blush to his cheeks and Liam doesn't know what to do, but laugh sheepishly with him. But it dies quickly in Liam's throat when Zayn licks his lips and looks down to his dick again.

 

The smile on Zayn's mouth is licked away with a swipe of his tongue. And Liam's mildly surprised when Zayn grips the base of Liam's cock, feels himself twitch in Zayn's hands, tip glistening with precome. He lifts his gaze up at Liam once as he lowers himself down, Zayn opening his mouth enough to lick a long stripe at the underside of Liam's dick.

 

Liam's leg jerks, his knee coming up and almost knocking Zayn on the side of his head. "Sorry," he says quickly, feeling embarrassed. Zayn's top lip shines with a bead of precome that sits there.

 

"S'okay." His mouth quivers and he licks the precome off, Zayn's thumb swiping over the slit and smearing the rest of the come onto the tip. "Relax, yeah?" And Liam thinks that it's kinda hard to relax when Zayn's hand is on his cock. But he breathes out and nods again just as Zayn dips his head down, stretching his lips around the head. Liam's eyes roll back, his toes curling as he breathes out a jagged breath. He takes his time, mouth working leisurely like he has all the time in the world to get Liam off. And Liam can't deny that he loves the warmth of Zayn's mouth, the way he points his tongue and draws patterns with the tip, wrist twisting at what he can't fit in his mouth. It's so fucking _good._

 

"That's--" Liam starts, his fingers twitching and his hand inches forward toward Zayn's head. "Feels good." He breathes, licking his dry lips and Zayn looks up at him through dark lashes, one corner of his mouth turning up even with a dick in it. And when Zayn takes him all the way down to the base, exhaling against the hair there, Liam's so fucking amazed that Zayn gag reflex doesn't seem to be bothered. He pulls off with a pop, grinning when his hand keeps jerking Liam off.

 

"Good." Lips swollen, Zayn looks absolutely sinful; all bedroom eyes and dick sucking lips, precise in which way he turns his wrist and when. "Supposed to feel good." And it's not like Liam has never received a blowjob before; he _knows_ it supposed to feel good, but Zayn's mouth was just on his dick and Liam thinks about fucking into it, so he shuts up and nods. Tilting his head down, Zayn presses open mouthed kisses to Liam's tummy, eyelashes tickling his skin. His thumb slides over his slit again, swirls as he spreads more precome and the spit there. Involuntarily, Liam's hips stutter, twitching up off the bed and into Zayn's mouth, forcing him to take more of Liam's cock and Liam's only half sorry with how it heats his whole body, a pull at the back of his lower tummy teasing him on to the edge.

 

Zayn reminds him to control his movements when he presses his fingertips hard into his hips, spit pooling at the corner of his mouth and eyelashes wet with tears. Liam's dick pops out of his mouth, bobbing against his stomach and he's so fucking hard and impatient to come, but Zayn cups his balls in one hand. His mouth latches onto one side and fucking sucks, and when Liam's jaw goes slack and his head tilts back against the bed, his dick twitches and his hand finds the back of Zayn's head.

 

"Fuck my mouth," Zayn hoarsely mutters, leaving kisses up his sack and onto the base of the shaft, all the way up to the tip. He takes his hand away and wraps just his lips around the head, closes his eyes and braces his arms. And Liam has to catch his breath first, flushing from his cheeks all the way down his chest. He mentally prepares himself, licks his lips and brings both his hands to frame Zayn's head loosely, and then he cants his hips up. The pace is set slow at first, enough for Zayn to keep his eyes open and blink up at Liam a few times. Holding back from moaning, he bites down on his lip hard, fucks Zayn's mouth lazy and stiff, but Zayn must notice because he goes down on Liam's dick and takes more of him. And Liam can't stop himself when he groans low in his throat, a break in the pace where he circles his hips before fucking up again.

 

"God, Zayn." He slurs, holding Zayn's head down harder than he means to when his tongue works at the underside. "So fucking good." Hips snapping, Zayn gags against his cock a few times, but recovers, spit sliding from Zayn's mouth, down Liam's dick and pooling in the thickness of his pubes. And when he notices Zayn's rubbing himself off against bed in slow circles, Liam bites his lip so hard he thinks he draws blood and he's so close to coming, but he stops.

 

A line of spit connects his cock to Zayn's lip when he pulls off, come and saliva smeared across his mouth. And Liam thinks he sees a quiver of a smile hint at Zayn's lips, but instead his tongue darts out and licks his lips, Liam following the action.

 

They spend a minute just breathing, their eyes locked and Zayn resting his chin against Liam's pelvis, or at least Liam thinks they do before he sees Zayn grinding not so subtly against the bed to get friction on his dick. Oh, god, he's going to see Zayn's dick. "Come here." He says all breathily and Zayn doesn't need anymore convincing, sliding his body up. His belt buckle digs into Liam's side and Zayn kisses him again, his lips tasting like salt. Their mouths opens to taste the inside their cheeks on each other's tongues, Liam looping his fingers around the belt loop of Zayn's trousers when he feels the hard line of Zayn's dick against his thigh.

 

He palms Zayn without thinking, abandoning the loops of his belt and defunding to touch. And Zayn doesn't mind, not when he gasps into Liam's mouth and kisses him back harder, bring his hands up to cradle his head in Zayn's hands, palms pressed to his damp cheeks. "That's it," he whispers into Liam's mouth and moans when Liam hand gives a small squeeze. "Touch me, Liam." And he wants to, so he doesn't move his hand, keeps rubbing and squeezing, his free hand shakily coming up to work at the buttons on Zayn's shirt to get it open.

 

Eventually, Zayn breaks the kiss to hastily get the rest of the buttons undone and chuck his shirt to the floor with Liam's sweats. And it's all warmth and body heat when Zayn arches his back and their chests press, Liam's fingers skimming one of Zayn's nipples. "Pants," Liam manages, his bottom lip in between Zayn's teeth as he bites down, sending a jolt up Liam's spine that screams _fuck me, fuck me_.

 

But Zayn's not looking to waste any time; he kneels on the bed and works at his belt with fast fingers. It clicks and jiggles when it's finally loose, so Liam gets his hands on him again, releases the button and barely gets the zipper down when he tugs at the waistband. He gets Zayn's cock out when his fingers catch onto his briefs as he pulls, Zayn's trousers and pants sliding down his thighs. And, like -- his heart beats in his ears and precome is already leaking in fat beads, one rolling down the long line of the side. Zayn hisses at the contact of his sensitive dick when Liam catches it on his thumb, but their gazes never break when Liam brings it up to his mouth and licks it away.

 

The look on Zayn's face is worth it; he brings his lip into his mouth and his eyes are dark, his legs jerking a little to get the rest of his pants off. And once he does, he shifts and moves his knee in between Liam's, licking his lips as he hooks his arms around Liam's thighs and positions them so it's Liam's legs that bracket Zayn's thighs. From this angle, Zayn could fuck Liam if he wanted to and Liam keens at that, Zayn watching him. And it feels good, to have all of Zayn's attention on him like this, feels the heat of his gaze. The tip of Zayn's dick catches onto Liam's rim when Zayn leans forward to kiss him again, Liam tensing and moaning, a hand grabbing at his shoulder and nails digging into the snake tattoo. He leaves kisses at the corner of Liam's mouth, on the underside and to his ear, Zayn's nose brushing his earlobe. "Please, touch me." he begs again, his hand finding Liam's and guiding him his hand to wrap around his cock. Chanting his hips forward, he rocks into Liam's fist, nose buried in the crook of his neck.

 

And now, Liam's hand is wrapped around Zayn's dick, Zayn breathing hard into his neck. _Liam's_ hand is wrapped around _Zayn's_ dick, how amazing is that? The angle strains on Liam's wrist as jerks, using the leaking precome to make the shaft slicker, but the way Zayn's mouth fall opens and he guides Liam's hand is worth it. "Just like that." He moves his hand away and lets Liam work, his arm shaking as his elbow holds him up while his now free hand slides up Liam's chest and tweaks at a nipple between two fingers. At his hip, blood rushes to Liam's cock when Zayn's dick drags along his lower tummy as he pumps his fist, Zayn's tip brushing Liam's sack and catching the base.

 

It's a little too much for the both of them. Zayn picks himself out of Liam's neck, skims his lips over Liam's collarbone, bites and sucks, and won't stop. He runs his lips over every part of Liam's skin and marks, little red bruises that'll be purple in the morning. Hand wet, Liam jerks Zayn off in a sticky, sloppy motion, dirty enough to get him off, but it's hard to concentrate when Zayn's hips start moving and he fucks into Liam's hand, the paces mismatching. And Liam tries hard to meet Zayn's, but his cock slips out of Liam's fist and ends up fucking down onto Liam's groin, their dicks rubbing.

 

"Grab them both," Zayn says in a rush after biting a bruise just above Liam's nipple. His tongue swirls, mouth latching on only seconds before he guides Liam's hand between them again. With both their hands and holding their cocks, slowing their movements enough to create friction against one another, Zayn's precome smearing onto Liam's clenching stomach. And from Zayn's lips sucking on nipple, teeth scraping and how his eyelashes are long, so long, he keeps looking up at him through them, and his cock rubbing against Liam's cock -- the words tumble out, aided by twist in his lower abdominal.

 

"I'm close," he says, one hand half wrapped around their dicks and the other tracing Zayn's lower back. Humming into his skin, Zayn releases his mouth and licks his lips.

 

"Come for me," he whispers and Liam's eyes flutter, Zayn dropping a kiss to Liam's lower lip. "Come, baby." A whine resonates in Liam's throat, needing to come but needing Zayn.

 

"No," he buries his head in his shoulder, fist pausing but Zayn keeps grinding down into his sensitive groin. "I need -- need you so bad -- want --" he starts again, blood rushing in his ears and he hooks his legs around Zayn's calves needily. "Want you to fuck me."

 

Zayn stops moving; stares at him as he processes Liam's words and it's like time stops, and they're breathing each other's air and they're the only ones that matters. Licking his lips, Zayn nods and smooths a hand over Liam's sweaty forehead. "Have anything, babe?"

 

"Yeah," he turns his head and looks over to his half empty suitcase sitting on the other side of the bed. "It's in -- the side pocket."

 

Nodding, Zayn pecks Liam's lips once and moves from the bed to rummage through Liam's suitcase. Liam takes the moment alone to give himself some time to breath, to process the next turn of events that are about to happen, the sound of the zipper being undone. Zayn's about to _fuck_ him, oh my god.

 

He comes back to the bed with a smirk on his mouth, holds up the opened bottle of lube and cocks his eyebrow at him. Liam doesn't know it's possible to flush a darker shade of red than he already is. "I, uh," Liam clears his throat, watches Zayn's shit eating grin get wider. "It's for, you know, tour and stuff. It gets... lonely."

 

"And the condoms?"

 

Liam opens his mouth and looks up at Zayn's parted lips. "Never hurts to be hopeful."

 

And Zayn's mouth twitches, his fingers rubbing at the space adjacent where his dick lies. "No, it doesn't."

 

Lifting his hips up, Liam refrains from smiling too big. "So, get on with it, then." And he does, Zayn doesn't waste anymore time, leaves kisses on Liam's cheeks that causes him to sigh. He grabs the bottle and spurts some of the lube into his hand and coats his fingers. Their mouths reconnect just as Zayn presses the pads of his fingertips to Liam's rim, the cold making Liam inhale sharply against Zayn's mouth, where he kisses reassuringly.

 

His whole body goes tense, the hand at Zayn's lower back scratches at the skin and leaves red lines down to the top of his crack. Circling his rim, Zayn drags his teeth over Liam's bottom lip as he gets him going, Liam's breathing stuttering while his hips rock forward. He bites down on Liam's lip when he seeps the tip of his forefinger past the rim, catching Liam off guard, his mouth falling open and his brows furrowing.

 

"So good," Zayn whispers, wiping Liam's forehead with his free hand and through closed eyelids, Liam feels Zayn kiss his eyelids. He wiggles his finger, creates circles that gets Liam used to the feeling, feels when Zayn grinds down again so their cocks touch. And when he sinks the first finger in, Liam's mouth goes open, heat bubbling within his abdominal, stomach clenching from the build up. Liam wants, fuck, he wants, keens as he writhes in the sheets and when his eyes open, Zayn's staring back at him with this pupils blown out. Beads of sweat dots Zayn's forehead, glistening the collar of his neck and Liam can't stop himself from mumbling for another.

 

Zayn obliges, sinks another finger past Liam's rim and fucks him with two fingers, Liam arse clenching at the sting. Tracing his tongue over Liam's lip, Liam's mouth falls open, lets his tongue touch Zayn's when he dips down to kiss him again, lazily moving his mouth until Liam can't keep up anymore. He gets lost in the way Zayn's fingers slide easily with each and every drag, pace quickening until the end of his palm slaps against his arse.

 

"Zayn," Liam cries, the corner of his eyes watering and a whimper falls from his mouth. "Please, just--" he tries to grind down into Zayn's hand the same moment he adds a third finger, words catching in his mouth and he chokes a little, arm shaking when he grabs onto Zayn's forearm and doesn't let go. And it hurts, Liam shuts his eyes and tries to relax into Zayn's touch, but then his fingers curl and rubs -- rubs onto something and Liam flat out moans. " _There--_ " he strangled out, scrapes his teeth over Zayn's shoulder and bites. Fingers relentless, the tips of Zayn's fingers keep themselves curled and Liam thinks he starts to see stars from how hard he's shutting his eyes. "Right, _fuck_ , there." And with every fuck of his fingers, the snap of Liam's hips grind, keeping up and wanting more. "Please," he whimpers, opens his eyes and sifts a hand over Zayn's hair while he peers down at him. "Please--just--"

 

"Yeah," Zayn nods, voice sounding shot, but he removes his fingers and Liam whines while clenching down on nothing. With sticky fingers, he rips the condom wrapper and rolls the rubber on, Liam watching until anticipation bubbles in his stomach and his dick pulses with want. And Liam reaches for the bottle of lube, clumsy in his hands, but he spurts more of it into his hand and slicks Zayn's cock up, toes curling again. Kissing Liam's lips tentatively, Zayn guides Liam's hand away from his dick, kisses Liam's mouth, the corners of his mouth and chin. He wraps his hand around the base of his cock and presses the head against his arse, Liam's body going lax moments more his back arches when Zayn presses.

 

It takes him several minutes to bottom out, Liam unable to take the stretch a couple of times, tears welling up in his eyes before they fall, glittering down his cheeks. Zayn's there though, wipes Liam's tears away and leaves kisses in their wake. He's patient, even when Liam can see the way his hips and arms shake, how it's obvious he's holding himself back, but waits. And he pushes in inch by inch when Liam's heels kick at Zayn's calves, his own thighs quivering from how hard he's squeezing just to keep him there.

 

Liam breathes out a long breath when Zayn's dick is all the way in and it's so fucking worth it. Even when Zayn's arms are shaking, too, sweat shining his forehead, breath fanning Liam's lips from how hard he's panting. But he gives Liam a wobbly smile when he finds Liam looking up at him, the pair of them letting out a breathy laugh. Wiggling his arse, Liam adjusts and positions out the uncomfortability, and nods a little once he's ready, bringing his hands to Zayn's sides. "Okay," he says and sees Zayn swallow. "You can move."

 

And he does, wipes the sweat away from his upper lip and rocks himself back slowly, Liam bracing himself with a grunt, and then pushing back in. He sets the pace, slow and gentle, Liam's head tipping back onto the bed. He doesn't want to come yet, not when they just started, but the pressure in Liam's stomach is insistent. And he doesn't think Zayn's too far behind either, the way his mouth is open just a little and when he moves his hand, he grips the base of Liam’s neglected cock.

It’s definitely too much, Liam’s dick sensitive to the touch, but Zayn’s hand jerks him off at the same pace that he fucks into him, Zayn’s hips snapping and rolling into him. And he groans eventually, the arm that holds him up giving out and he falls into Liam’s chest, breathes hard against him as his pace stutters out of sync. “ _Fuck,_ Liam.” he huffs against a hickey just above Liam’s nipple. His cheeks wet, sliding against Liam’s chest as they move, Liam meeting Zayn’s hips with every rut, lifting himself off the bed. He can’t stop rolling his body into it, their stomach’s touching every time they thrust up into each other, Liam’s body jolting and going perfectly pliant, muscles tensing when the tip of Zayn’s cock hits his prostate again.

“Oh my god,” He says, his eyes watering again and he can’t take all the attention, not when Liam’s still fucking Zayn’s hand and Zayn’s fucking Liam, hitting all the right places, the mattress squeaking underneath them and Zayn is still mouthing incoherent things into Liam’s skin. “Don’t stop.” His head buries into his shoulder on each side and he can’t keep still, can’t keep himself from fucking up while Zayn fucks down because it feels so _good_. And he’s forced to look Zayn in the eyes when he places a damp hand on Liam’s cheek, breathing onto each other’s lips until Liam lurches forward and kisses Zayn on the mouth, his tongue dipping into the inside of his mouth and nips at Zayn’s upper lip, making him groan in response.

Liam comes without warning; it starts in his lower tummy before spreading throughout his middle and finding his fingertips and toes. He grips onto Zayn’s shoulders and sure that he leaves scratch marks there with the way he grabs him and doesn’t let go, his whole body shaking with it. Come streaks his middle all the way up as far as his neck, but Zayn’s body spreads it when he keeps thrusting, riding Liam’s orgasm out and licks the come off from wherever he can reach (and whispers encouraging words like “Yeah, babe, come.” and “Fuck, Liam, if you could see yourself right now). His cock leaks all over Zayn’s hand as his wrist slows, Liam’s dick becoming more sensitive by the second. And he almost can’t take it anymore, Zayn still hitting his prostate and his thumb smearing over his slit again, hands coming to push at Zayn’s shoulders when he tips his head back and exposes his neck. “Gonna come, gonna come.” And Liam endures, cranes his neck a little to get his mouth on Zayn’s neck, swipes his tongue over the flesh and bites hard enough to get a rumble of a moan in Zayn’s throat. He fucks relentlessly, the headboard hitting the wall with soft, consecutive _thump, thump, thumps_ , until Zayn squeezes his eyes shut and buries his face in Liam’s neck, hips twitching as he slows down before coming to a full stop.

There’s a brief moment where they lie there, breathing hard and trying to catch their breath, bodies sticking together from the come and sweat. Zayn doesn’t seem to move at all, presses all his weight down into Liam and he literally feels in his arse Zayn going soft. And then slowly, very slowly, Zayn reaches a hand down and eases himself out, Liam feeling the absence of Zayn’s cock and sighs, eyelids fluttering. They don’t speak for several minutes, Liam staring up at the ceiling, the rise and fall of his chest still rapid, dick going soft and come drying on his stomach.

And did that really fucking happen?

“Hey,” Zayn mumbles against him and Liam looks down to find Zayn peering at him with tired eyes and a sweaty forehead. “Okay?” And how the fuck can Liam be okay when he just fucked his best friend that he’s completely, head over heels in love with?

“Yeah,” he says and he doesn’t know if it’s a lie or not. “I’m with you.” But the smile on Zayn’s face is worth it, the corners of his lips starting to curl and he gives Liam a wobbly little grin. When chuckles, he shakes the bed a little and Liam too, and it’s enough for a smile to start at Liam’s mouth.

 **  
** They fall asleep like that; sweaty and dirty, but Liam doesn’t mind, not when he’s with his boy. They fall asleep, Zayn’s breathing him in and Liam a little hopeful.

 

0 days left.

 

"Liam!"

 

He jolts awake in a panic, sleep ripped from him when his eyes fly open and he sits up in the bed quickly. The first thing he notices is that Zayn isn't there laying beside him. And for a second, he thinks he made it all up; that Zayn was never there in the first place and it all a dream. Everything he built up in his chest deflates, and he presses a hand to his forehead. “Yeah?” he yells loud enough for Louis to hear him and there’s another knock on the door in confirmation.

 

"Liam, get up and get ready, let's go!" Louis calls, banging on the door once more until Liam can hear him walk away.

 

And he needs to take a breath before accepting the events of the previous night were false, before Liam moves from the bed and into the bathroom with slow, dragging steps. Except, Liam most certainly did not make up last nights events when with every step, there's a pain in his bum, not to mention he's stark naked. And when he looks in the mirror, what stares back at him are several hickeys littered across his collarbone and -- honestly, it makes his tummy tense with memories. He leans all his weight against the sink, standing makes his thighs shake and the first thing he thinks about is how sleeping with Zayn was _very_ real and yet he isn't in the room. It makes him sick to think Zayn slipped out in the middle of the night, leaving the room quickly and silently as to not wake Liam. And it’s a little unfair, the way he can do that so easily when Liam has to bite his cheek in order to stop himself from crying, the corner of his eyes stinging with tears. He has to clench his fists when he turns the shower head on, and has to try not to think of Zayn loving someone else.

 

*** * ***

 

Liam’s the last to get to Lou’s hotel room, the box with the rings in his hands that he safely stuffed all the way back into his suitcase (mostly because he didn’t actually want to look at them and be reminded that, well, yeah, Zayn’s still getting married). Caroline’s the one that opens the door for him, practically pushing in him into the room and muttering something under her breath about being late and that they’ll never get ready on time for the photos at this rate.

 

Both Harry and Louis lie across the bed, already in their suits; Harry decked out with a black hat on top of his head, and sunglasses hanging from Louis’ button down. His pants bunch at the ankles above his oxfords. Liam crosses the room over to the window and watches as Lou touches up Niall’s hair when Zayn steps out of the bathroom. His frame is wet and he stands in the walkway just in boxer briefs, a hotel towel in his hands. And Zayn’s eyes only finds Liam’s once before his lips fall into a tight line, and Caroline grabs the towel from him and starts dabbing at the wet spots on his skin, scolding him to dry off better unless he wants to get his suit damp.

 

And it’s not like Liam has time to be upset about any of it, not when he’s ushered into his own suit and Lou rushes him to finish getting dressed so she could work on his hair and makeup. He has to sit in chair and sit still while his hair and face is being worked at, has to deal with Niall and Harry’s enthusiasm in the background, Louis’ concerned gaze and Zayn’s _lack_  of a gaze at all. Because as far as Zayn’s concerned, apparently Liam doesn’t exist at all.

 

“Relax your face, babe, you’re scowling.” Lou prods the end of a brush in between Liam’s eyes, and that makes Zayn look back at him just as Liam licks his lips and apologizes. He tries to keep his eyes off of Zayn when Caroline fixes his tux, brushes his shoulders off and frowns, throwing her hands down at her thighs.

 

“Zayn, honey, where in the world is your tie?” She asks him, her fingers working at his collar. “Did you leave it back in your room?”

 

“I’ll go get it.” Liam and Zayn say in unison without meaning to, causing all eyes in the room to zone in on the pair of them; Niall looks up from his phone next to Liam, from the bed Harry pauses his game of Pease Pudding Hot with Brooklyn, Caroline frowns at Zayn and Lou even pauses patting foundation onto Liam’s under eyes to raise her brows at him. Luckily, Louis’ in the bathroom for all of this.

 

Caroline purses her lips, but nods. “Alright, go get it, then. Hurry up, you two.”

 

Zayn frowns in his spot, his hands clenched, but when Caroline pats him on the arm, he turns and heads for the door without waiting for Liam. He catches up though, smiles apologetically to Lou and Caroline again on his way out. When he gets to Zayn’s room, the door is left open and he shuts it on his way in, heart beating loud in his chest. Liam leans against the door, head tipped back while he watches Zayn rummage through his suitcase for his tie.

 

“You’re ignoring me.” Liam starts and watches the way Zayn’s whole body freezes, clutching the tie in his hands when he stands.

 

“No, I’m not.” he mumbles, still not looking at Liam. With shaky hands, he tears the plastic away from the light purple tie (perfect for Perrie’s theme) and throws it to the floor. Hastily, he wraps it around his neck and tries to tie it without a mirror or patience, and his jaw starts to set the way it does when he’s annoyed.

 

Liam pushes himself off the door, Zayn eyeing him when he starts to approach him and reaches for the tie. “Let me do it.” And instead of fighting, Zayn’s arms drop to his sides when Liam gets his hands on the tie, and carefully does it for him. Even if Zayn doesn’t look at him, Liam sees the way he chews at his lip, the way his cheeks are a little red and how he still won’t look at Liam for the life of him. He adjusts Zayn’s collar with gentle hands, smoothens out the front of his shirt and shoulders. And then he takes a step back.

 

He looks good, Liam thinks. And not the way Zayn always looks good, but it’s something more than just pure amazement. He looks wedding ready, or would look if it wasn’t for the hard pull of his mouth, eyes cloudy. Liam tilts his head to the side as he examines the tie, his lips pressed together and eyes squinted. But it's more than just about the lavender tie around Zayn's neck, but it's about words that have been stuck to the roof of his mouth for a week loosening. And he knows it's taken him this long and that it might be too late -- that it is too late, and Zayn will walk down that aisle and vow to spend the rest of his life with someone that he isn't even sure he loves in just a few hours. But Liam is sure, Liam has been sure for years and he never had the right words to say. And now, he can feel it in his veins and on the place of his chest that Zayn touched with tender fingertips as Liam left open mouthed kisses to the hollow of his neck just last night. And it may be the wrong time, it may be selfish of Liam to say such things when he's had his time in the past. His time had been past, but the words fall from his mouth so easily, so confidently that it almost feels like another person saying them. "I'm in love with you."

 

It’s like the whole world stops and opens up, and Liam’s looking in through a smoke screen. Zayn blinks slow, picking his gaze up to meet Liam's eyes. He waits for it, all while holding his breath. He waits for the words that Zayn will tell him and change his life forever. This is it, and Liam’s hands start to shake as his fingers curl into his palms. And he watches as Zayn's jaw tenses, the way his eyes shift and Liam swears he feels his heart stop. Because Zayn's eyes are guarded and Liam can't read what he's feeling or what he might be feeling. And Liam's heart beats, rapping harshly against his ribcage that he's afraid he might crack a rib, and even more afraid what Zayn might think.

 

"Please say something." he pleads in a whisper, throat closing and eyes stinging. But he had to say it, couldn’t leave it unsaid.

 

Licking his lips, Zayn opens his mouth before closing it again. Shaking his head, a strained laugh falls from his lips and he scrubs a hand over his head. His back and shoulders are taut, strings pulled tight, and he keeps clenching and unclenching his hands. "I don't know what you want me to say, Liam." And he stands there, folding hands together like he doesn’t know what to do with them, gaze elsewhere.

 

“I’m in love with you,” Liam repeats, slower and he wants to sound confident, but falls short when his voice cracks. The blunt of his short nails dig into his palms and create little half moon crests on his skin. “I’m in love with you and I think I’ve always been in love with you and I don’t want you to do this.”

 

"Do what?" His tone is sharp and Liam hates that Zayn's being defensive.

 

"I know you don't love her, Zayn." Tears pool at the corners of his eyes when Zayn glares at him. And bringing his hand to rub over his chin, Zayn turns his back on him while shaking his head. "You told me, You told me after all these years with Perrie, you don't know if you really want to spend the rest of your life with her. And I've loved you for so long and I never knew what to say or how to say it. And after last night, I can't let you go through with this without knowing." He starts, reaching for Zayn's arm when he jerks away suddenly. And that -- it's enough for Liam's breath to catch in surprise, the bile on his tongue souring. “I’m sorry,” Liam says immediately. His breathing has stopped, coming to a slow that he could hear his heart beating against his eardrums. “But I’m also really, really not.”

Zayn stays silent, shakes his head a few times and turns his back on Liam, walks off toward the window while looking up at the ceiling as if for answers. His whole body shakes and Liam thinks he’s going to combust from how much he must be thinking or feeling now.

 

“You don’t have to say anything.” Liam continues tentatively, voice cracking. “I just wanted you to know.”

 

“What do you _want_ me to do, Liam?” Zayn spits sharply, his words directed at him, but his eyes stay upward. The corner of his eyes shine with tears. “What am I supposed to do now?”

 

And that really isn’t a question for him to answer. But it’s meant to be rhetorical, with Zayn’s biting tone and intense eyes. It’s supposed to be the big ‘fuck you,’ where Zayn tells him that he’s getting married to someone that isn’t Liam and how is he supposed to deal with a confession like that when he’s supposed to be in love with the girl he’s supposed to marry? And as much as Liam hates to admit it, Zayn’s _right._ Liam can’t expect Zayn to drop the whole thing, can’t expect Zayn to want to start their lives together because that isn’t his place and perhaps Zayn doesn’t love Perrie, but that doesn’t mean he loves Liam.

 

Pressing his lips together, he shrugs, vision blurring until he’s only able to make out the blackness of Zayn’s suited form. “I just want you to be happy.” And he doesn’t wait for Zayn’s reaction because it’s long past; Liam’s time was always overdue and there’s nothing that can be done about it. He has finally said his peace, and that’s that. That’s it. He’s finally able to move his feet and steps toward the door. And he leaves, shuts the door behind him on his way out, doesn’t pause and numbly walks back to Lou’s room.

 

“Where’s Zayn?” Louis asks on his way in and Liam doesn’t respond until he’s sat back in Lou’s working chair. His eyes close as she dabs more makeup around his eyes and he counts down from ten before he says anything, steadies his breathing.

 

“He’s coming.” he says flatly and if anyone notices, they don’t say anything.

 

*** * ***

 

They’re kicked out of Lou’s room about twenty minutes later when Zayn returns and he gets his makeup done. No one mentions the elephant in the room, not even when Niall sighs loudly and mutters under his breath, “So much stress in this room.” And the five of them loiter awkwardly in the hall for about a minute; Zayn’s the only distant one, standing a little too far away and his fingers toying with his boutonniere.

 

Harry offers to spend the next half hour before photos to have a couple of drinks in his room for ‘old time's sake,’ (“Oh my god, Harold.” Louis gapes, placing a hand over his chest. “Zayn’s getting married, it’s not like his whole life is done and over with.”) And Niall’s the one that agrees for the rest of them, nodding and leaning his arm against Louis’ shoulder who looks completely offended by the gesture. “Sounds good.”

 

“Gonna go to my room.” Zayn mumbles and Liam’s the only one that doesn’t look his way, doesn’t have the strength to.

 

“Alright,” Niall shrugs as Louis pushes his arm off him. “We’ll wait for you.”

 

“Niall,” Liam starts gently and it’s Louis that looks back at him instead. “I don’t think--”

 

“Yeah,” Louis interrupts and grabs Niall’s elbow in an effort to pull him away. “We’ll wait for you, Z.” And at that, Zayn smiles gratefully, but his shoulders are hunched in on himself. He glances once at Liam before Louis’ other hand comes to Liam’s forearm and pulls. “Payno, come on.” Before he’s forced to look away with how Louis tugs Liam in the opposite direction of the hallway leading down to Harry’s room, he sees the upturned corners of Zayn’s smile dissolve.

 

And Liam tries not to think of that.

 

*** * ***

 

They’re halfway through the mini bar in the refrigerator when Zayn busts through the door. Except, it isn’t Zayn when the four boys look up and expect him to be there. Instead, it’s a very red faced, wide eyed, and a very, very stressed looking Perrie; hair curled, braided and pinned away from her face, puffy white dress ruffled up by the waist where she holds it in both hands. Niall’s cocks an eyebrow at her, shot glass up to his lips, but he pauses to, what Liam thinks, whistle lowly, but is cut off when Perrie shakes her head at them.

 

“We have a problem.” Perrie says in a rush, color drained from her face. She shuts the door behind her and doesn’t move, panic stricken. “Zayn’s gone.”

 

The whole room goes quiet and words don’t process as quick as they should; Liam stands there while the other boys mouths fall open and they all stare at Niall. But then his whole body goes cold and alarm bells go off in his head and chest. Fuck. Fuck, this is all his fault. Niall’s the first to utter anything, speaking the only thing on everyone’s minds, _“What?”_

 

“He _left,_ said he couldn’t do this, and just left!”

 

And Liam feels Louis’ gaze fall upon him, frowning and setting his drink down with a clang. “What do you mean he ‘just left?’ What happened?”

She sighs deeply and throws her arms down to her sides. “He told me to come to his room, so I did, and then he started mouthing off about all this -- this -- _I don’t know_ , and then he just left, walked off and left!”

Guilt works it’s way into Liam’s throat, the colour from his face draining. He licks his lips and sets his own shot glass down, stuffing his hands into his pockets and -- and this is all his fault. This is all Liam’s fault -- if he hadn’t said anything to Zayn back in his hotel room, this wouldn’t be happening. Zayn would’ve came to Harry’s room with them, had drinks with his boys and laughed and -- and he would be taking pictures with his soon-to-be-bride and get married and live happily ever after. Except, he wouldn’t really, would he? Zayn admitted he didn’t love Perrie, was confused about everything and -- and that was before he slept with Liam. And shit, this really is Liam’s fault, isn’t it? He should’ve never loosened his tongue, never should’ve slept with Zayn, never should’ve let him kiss him. Now he’s gone, left the resort to -- where? And how are they supposed to find him?

Louis chews his bottom lip, scrubs a hand over his chin and shakes his head. “Okay, I’m gonna find him. Liam,” he turns and juts his hip out. “We’re taking your car, so you come with me.” Liam blinks, opening his mouth to speak but--

“Wait,” Perrie interrupts nervously. “My whole family’s here, I can’t -- they can’t know that Zayn’s missing.”

“We can stall.” Harry shrugs, elbowing Niall in the ribs. “For a bit.”

“Great,” Louis pipes in again, glances at Liam and claps his hands together. “Okay, now, we need to move quickly, let’s go.”

*** * ***

Liam’s heart beats loud in his ears while riding in the passengers seat of his car, Louis driving because his hands doesn’t shake. They drive south, thinks of a couple places where Zayn could be and try to navigate their way there, deducting that Zayn’s really not going to get far while on foot. And Liam feels the tension that’s between the two of them; Louis’ unreasonably quiet, he keeps moving his hands, keeps fixing his seat belt, fidgeting the way he does when something’s on his mind.

When at least another five minutes pass and Louis still hasn’t said anything, Liam slaps his hands down on his sides and shifts in his seat enough so he’s facing Louis. “What is it?”

Louis narrows his eyes and grips the steering wheel, knuckles white. “What’re you on about?”

“You’re quiet and being weird and why did you even ask me to come with you?” He spits, frowning. “You could’ve asked Harry or Niall, or even Perrie for that matter, since that is his fiance, or at least supposed to be--”

“Liam,” Louis sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose with one hand. “Cut the shit. It’s obvious the way you two feel about each other.”

Blinking, Liam is -- he’s honestly speechless. “What?”

“I know about you and Zayn, you idiot. Honestly, I had to explain to Haz and Ni in Amsterdam that it wasn’t Sophia you’ve been moping about this entire time, it was Zayn. Do you think I’m blind? Besides, he told me all about what happened after we got high and he was freaking out.” He looks at Liam with a pointed glance. “And I’m pretty sure I can guess what you said to him when you left to get the tie.”

And like -- fuck, Liam’s speechless, doesn’t know what to say and his heart feels like it’s going to collapse. What does he mean by ‘the way you two feel about each other?’ And how is he supposed to respond to something like that? _What does that even fucking mean?_ His cheeks flame and Liam feels the heat, shrinks back into his seat because he just feels like Louis is confirming that, yeah, this is all just really fucking confusing. Because he’s in love with Zayn. And Zayn -- he feels what? Fuck.

“Well, you two obviously have a lot to talk about.” He pulls into a parking lot by the beach, puts the car in park and turns in his seat enough to look straight at Liam. “He’s there,” he points outside Liam’s window and -- and he _is_ there in the distance, sitting in the sand and dirtying his black suit, overlooking the shore. Liam feels a lump in a throat, feels the guilt and the love and the hurt and doesn’t know how to deal with it all. Until Louis places a hand on his shoulder and when Liam looks back at him, Louis gives him a small smile. “You go. I’ll be here.”

“How’d you know he was going to be here?”

Louis shrugs. “Let’s just say, we talk a lot of shit when we’re pissed. Go on, man.”

*** * ***

Zayn's sitting there, shoulders hunched over himself with his elbows on his knees and his head hangs down in between, fingertips touching the back of his collar on his neck. Liam doesn't say anything immediately. His breathing has stopped, coming to a slow that he could hear his heart beating against his eardrums. And he’s scared, he’s so fucking scared and Louis’ sitting in the car far behind him and the wind rustles through his suit and he’s fucking _scared._

"Hey," he says tentatively, crouching down to take a seat in the sand next to Zayn. And when he sighs, their arms and knees are touching and Zayn doesn't flinch away this time. He doesn't shy away from Liam's presence and Liam thinks that might mean something, but he doesn't know what yet.

Zayn's bottom lip falls from between his teeth and his hands come together when he looks up at him, eyes soft. "Hey."

"Are you okay?" And it's a funny question to ask, Liam notes the second it falls from his mouth. His stomach churns just thinking about it, that there is clearly something wrong with Zayn leaving minutes before the wedding, before the biggest moment of his life. And yet here Liam is, asking the obvious question because no, Zayn isn't okay.

But he looks okay. There's stress pulling at his shoulders and back that winds him up tight. And his mouth, straight, soft and pliant.

Liam's chest screams _I hope you don't regret this decision,_ but feels terrible for thinking so, hands gripping the knee of his trousers hard enough to make his knuckles white. Zayn's happiness will always come first and whatever Zayn ever decides to do, Liam will always be there to support him. He will always be right there beside him, and when Zayn needs Liam the most, he will be there, too, to pick up the pieces and put them back together again even if his hands bleed.

Liam watches the way Zayn swallows, following his Adam's apple briefly before meeting Zayn's eyes when he nods. "Yeah," he replies, his voice quiet and it feels like a secret. That perhaps it's not okay that Zayn is okay because he left, walked out without warning that took everyone by surprise. And the way Zayn's eyes look down into his lap guiltily, like he knows he's done something wrong, that he knows he’s disappointed so many people. That he disappointed Perrie, her family and his family, too.

He feels his tongue point the roof of his mouth, feels the apology boil in his chest before he actually says it. “I’m sorry.”

Zayn takes a long look at him, his lips parted but his eyebrows aren’t together. The guilt falls away into something more protective and he shifts to grab for Liam’s hand, his thumb skimming over the top. “You don’t have anything to apologize for--”

“But I do,” Liam protests, voice strained and his hand shakes under Zayn’s hand. “I just -- I’m sorry you had to walk out on all of this. That you had to walk out on Perrie and the wedding, but I’m not sorry for what  I said because I meant it.” And it feels good to say despite the circumstances, despite the fact that Liam’s ruined everything if he had just kept his mouth closed. Tears pool at the inside corners of his eyes, vision blurring, but he tries hard not to cry, blinking fast although his eyes sting.

“Liam,” Zayn’s told is sincere and it makes Liam’s heart hurt as he exhales in a laugh. He doesn’t wait for the rejection he knows is coming because he wouldn’t know to handle that.

“We still have time if you want to go back. Harry and Niall -- I’m not too sure how that is going, but they’re supposed to be stalling. Louis and I, we could drive you back, he’s just waiting in the car. We’ll come up with an excuse and no one will know, and everything--”

“Liam,” Zayn starts again, but this time the corner of his mouth is turned up and he’s shaking his head a little. Liam doesn’t get it though, doesn’t understand why Zayn is looking at him like that, why he looks so fucking amused by what Liam had said like it was some kind of joke, like he just said something funny. But Zayn faces him, a smile on his mouth when he holds Liam’s hand in between both of his. “I don’t want to go back.”

And that -- that doesn’t make any sense, Liam thinks, his eyebrows furrowing. “What?” he straightens his back, shaking his head. “No, it’s not too late, I promise--”

“I know, Liam.” He says calmly, licks his bottom lip before chewing it into his mouth. Shaking his head, he looks Liam in the eyes and says, “I don’t want to get married to Perrie.”

_It’s obvious the way you two feel about each other._ “But -- but why not?”

He sniffs, squinting out toward the water and scratches his nose with his thumb. And as the seconds pass, Liam sees the way the corner of Zayn’s mouth turns up until he’s shaking his head and chuckles. “You said it yourself, Liam. I don’t love her and I don’t want to marry someone I don’t love. She’s just--” Pausing, Zayn licks his lips, looks down into his hands before he finally glances back at Liam and doesn’t look away. “She’s not the person I want to be with.”

“But--” Liam’s eyes widen, the defense on his tongue dissolving when Zayn raises a brow at him. “Oh.”

Laughter bubbles in Zayn’s chest before it actually leaves his mouth. “Yeah,” he turns to face Liam, actually smiling. “Oh.”

“Then,” Brows furrowing, Liam toys with his fingers in his lap. “Why did you leave?”

The smile on Zayn’s lips quiver and he stretches a leg out to toe at the sand, his cheeks and the tips of his ears going red. “I was scared.” he mumbles, but his fingers twitch once before he reaches out and touches Liam’s hand with his fingertips. “I didn’t -- I didn’t know what it meant. I just--” he sighs, pressing his lips together and looking up toward the sky like he’s trying to find the right words. But Zayn thumbs over Liam’s hand finally, taking a deep breath and locking their gazes with a defiant look, lips together and serious. Liam’s might just explode from nervousness, his hands shaking in Zayn’s. “I love you, Liam. I do, I’m just sorry it took me so long to figure it out.”

Silence elapses for longer than Liam thinks and Zayn expects. Zayn’s eyes narrow at the too long pause and Liam thinks his heart just burst in his chest. He squeezes Zayn’s hands in his. “Oh my god.”

“Oh my god? Is that really all you can say?”

“Oh my god, you _love_ me. _I_ love _you_ and _you_ love _me_ , oh my _god,_ how _mad_ is that?”

“Completely.” Zayn smirks and can’t stop himself from laughing, bringing Liam’s hands up to his lips and kissing the tops. And Liam fucking smiles back, smiles so wide, so big -- but it’s short lived, lips thinning and heart dissolving into panic.

“Wait, no, Perrie,” He reminds and watches the expression on Zayn’s face change. “She’s waiting for you, and we still have a wedding and--”

Pressing his fingers underneath Liam’s lips, Zayn shakes his head. “I already told her how I felt, she knows. I told her everything.”

Blinking in surprise, Liam’s mouth hangs open. He thinks about the cake, and music, and guests and everything that was planned, all thrown down the drain. He even thinks about the fucking rings in its fucking box in Liam’s left pocket. “But -- what are we going to do now?”

A whistle sounds behind them and when the pair of them turns, Louis waves to them from the parking lot; the drivers door open and his phone to his ear. He calls them back to the car, and when they run back, Zayn grabs Liam’s hand and doesn’t let go.

(They get back to resort and sadly, there is no wedding. Liam only feels half bad about it, how Zayn and Perrie have to tell the guests, including their parents, that they just don’t feel ready. Mostly everyone understands. They still have the reception dinner, though, since they’ve already paid for it and they just have a party instead. No one opposes. Zayn never stops reminding Liam that it’s okay and he doesn’t have to feel guilty or sorry, especially when they eye Perrie and Niall on the dancefloor, Zayn turns to Liam with a shrug.

“I think she’s gonna be alright.”

And Zayn makes sure to remind Liam that it’s him that he wants (even if he pretend for a little while that he’s still with Perrie for show) when they sneak back into the empty hallway up the stairs, Zayn backing Liam into a wall and kissing him in the dark. Harry and Niall catch them while they’re drunk. It’s a laugh they don’t forget.

A few weeks later, Zayn ends up telling his family because he decides to keep it honest. They understand. They also approve. A month later, Perrie and Zayn announce the “break up.” No one makes a big deal out of it, except the tabloids. They get a lot of fun out of that. And even better, a month after the break up, Zayn decides he wants to make his and Liam’s relationship public.

He leaves kisses across Liam’s chest while in bed, runs his hands up Liam’s biceps until he reaches his palms and slots their fingers together. “I want the world to know how I feel about you,” he whispers against Liam’s ear, making his back arch from the feel of his breath. “I want them to know you’re mine and I’m yours _always, always, always._ ”

Liam does not object.)

  
the end.

**Author's Note:**

> title is from he is we’s prove you wrong. thanks for reading :)


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